


Beautiful at Heart

by cmartlover



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: AU, F/M, Romance, multi-chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-01-07 09:04:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 51,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1118045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmartlover/pseuds/cmartlover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since he lost his sight, John Smith (Eleven) had always felt out of place. Lonely. A drifter. People either turned away or pitied him-- The Blind Man. He never imagined how quickly his life would change--on one particular day. The day he nearly lost his life. The day he met Melody Williams. The day she saved him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Saved

**Author's Note:**

> Got inspired to write this AU this morning after not writing anything for two months. Hope you enjoy it! I'm planning on continuing with it, so I'd love to know what you think:)

Savoring the warmth of the sun on his skin, the man stopped, gently tugging at the leash to alert his dog that he wanted to stand for a moment.

The battered pavement rested beneath his boots as the cars in front soared past, their familiar exhaust fumes reaching his nostrils.

Everything around him always moved so fast, _zoom-zoom-screech-zoom;_ he felt so out of place, a lost soul stuck amidst the chaos and the clamor of the world but never truly a part of it, a man frozen in time.

He heard the traffic halt, listened for any outlying vehicles, before letting his animal companion tug him forward.

But a quarter of the way to the other side of the road he began to sense that something was wrong—the sudden gust of wind against his side, the loud barking of his dog.

 _“Look out!”_ a woman screamed from behind as the unmistakable engine of a car skirted closer, closer, closer, deafening his ears, rendering him paralyzed and confused, until a pair of strong arms broke through the insanity, pulling him to safety.

His breathing sped up, his heart beating rapidly, _thumpthump-thumpthump-thumpthump,_ and only then did he realize how his body was shaking.

“It’s okay, it’s fine, I’ve got you, you’re going to be fine.” The frantic voice from earlier now soothed him.

He flexed his hand, suddenly terrified at the absence of the leash.

“Where’s Idris! _Idris!”_

“Who’s Idris?” the woman asked softly, her arms still firmly around him.

“My dog.”

“Shhhh. Shhh. It’s okay. I’ve got her. She’s right here.” She brought his trembling hand to the familiar soft fur, and he knelt down immediately, clutching the animal like a lifeline.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re safe, Old Girl.” The golden retriever licked his face. Feeling around for the woman’s hand, John squeezed it tightly. “Thank you. You’re very kind.” He smiled.

“No problem.”

“What happened? I thought the road was clear.” John mumbled.

“Well, apparently not. But you couldn’t have known. And you’re fine now, that’s all that matters.”

“What about you, though? You—you just—just pulled me out of a busy street! Are you okay? Are you hurt?” his voice quivered.

“No, I’m fine, Sweetie.” She brushed his fringe to the side. “Promise.”

 _Sweetie?_ A blush crept into his cheeks.

“Come on, dear, let’s get you to a bench or something.” Looping an arm around his shoulder, she led them off the street and to a small London park. “Here you go.” The kind woman perched herself beside him, Idris lying at their feet.

“Okay. Th-thank you, again. You didn’t have to do that, you know.” He whispered, fingers reaching for her face. “May I--? I mean, I—I’d like to get an idea of what my rescuer looks like.”

“Of course.” Her response surprised him; normally people would flinch and turn away. But she pressed his hand to her cheek, letting him stroke the contour of her face—her full cheeks, magnificent nose—and oh that hair—corkscrew curls that sifted through his fingers like silk.

_Wow. You’re beautiful._

“Thank you, Sweetie.” She giggled softly.

“H-hang on, did I—did I just say that out loud?” his heart fluttered. He withdrew, embarrassed. “S-sorry. You must think I’m mad. I just—I needed to—it’s how I remember people—since I can’t—I mean…”

“I don’t mind.”

“Really? Most people do. They think it’s weird. Or they just shrug and pity me. But you don’t, do you? You’re different. Why?”

He could hear her weary lapse of breath.

“Because I understand. My dad’s blind. I’ve helped mum take care of him for years. I saw firsthand how people began to treat him after his accident, and I _know_ how it hurts him. How could I do that to someone else?”

“Hmmm. Wish other people thought like that. And I meant what I said, you know. You are beautiful. In the best way. You have a beautiful heart.”

His words drifted amid the air.

A sudden ringing interrupted the heartfelt moment.

“Oh, gosh, I’m sorry, I have to get this.” A pause. “Mum? Yeah, sorry. Something came up; I had to help someone…I know, I’m sorry, but it was important…Yes, I’ll be there as soon as possible…Love you, too, bye.”

She sighed.

“I..erm…have to get my brother. I’m supposed to pick him up from school. My mum was worried.”

“Was I—was I holding you up? I’m sorry, if I’d known, I would’ve—”

“No, no, it’s fine. I promise, it’s fine…So…you’re definitely okay? Do you know where you are? Do you need help getting home? Should I call someone?” she sounded frantic, slightly uncomfortable, and he wondered if he should’ve kept his thoughts to himself.

“Nope. I recognize the place. And I’ve got my mobile right here. I’ll just call my sister, Clara, and she’ll pick me up in a jiff. I’ll be fine. Thank you again.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Hang on—I never caught your name—”

But she’d already gone out of earshot, leaving the young man lost to his thoughts.

  _Who are you?_

 

 

 

He wondered if he’d ever know.

 

* * *

 

John Smith fidgeted nervously with his bowtie as his sister led him down the familiar corridor.

“John, I keep telling you, it’ll be great! You love your job! The whole summer you’re bored out of your mind, and you’re always saying how much you miss teaching. Come on, aren’t you meeting your new assistant professor today?”

Groaning, he shrugged his shoulders, unable to hide the paranoia.

“It’s not that simple, Clara…”

“Hey,” she halted, turning to face him. “I know how much you miss Donna. She was your best friend, John, and I understand that, believe me, I do. But after the amnesia…it wasn’t safe for her to come back. Just keep an open mind all right?” Her hand cupped his cheek.

“Okay…”

Satisfied with herself, Clara looped her arm through his, practically yanking him to the door of his office.

“Well, here we are. I suspect the assistant professor will be here shortl—” A shuffling noise caught her attention. “Actually, I think she’s already inside. One sec.”

She poked her head at the door window, eyes locking onto the striking woman at the desk.

“It’s your lucky day, John. She’s gorgeous.”

“Oh, shut up, Clara.” John retorted, perplexed.

“Just thought you should know. Now, go knock on the door so she knows you’re here.” Clara instructed.

“I’m not a five-year-old, Clara; I know how to handle myself in these situations.” Although he couldn’t see her, he imagined his sister must’ve rolled her eyes.

Knocking softly, John opened the door, hearing the woman’s surprised gasp.

“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you. I’m rubbish when it comes to first impressions. My sister here can attest to that. Anyway…hello…I’m the professor of historical studies, Dr. John Smith. And you are?”

“Melody Williams.” She breathed, shaking his hand.

“Lovely name, Melody.” Her hand quivered slightly in his. “Wish you’d told me that the last time we met.” He smiled shyly, having quickly recognized the voice and touch of the woman who’d saved him.

“Wait—you know her?”

“Well, we met once. Last month. Remember that day I almost got run over? This is the woman who saved me. Have to say, I had no idea she’d be my new assistant professor.”

“You mean the woman you never stop talking about?”

“Clara!” John blushed, scratching his cheek.

“Glad to know I left an impression on you, Sweetie.”

 “Oh, she calls you Sweetie, too! No wonder you can’t stop thinking about her.” She chuckled to herself. “Anyway…” Her tone grew serious, empathetic. “Thank you for saving my brother. Not many people would do that, you know. Much as I love to wind him up, I really am grateful, truly. It was nice to meet you, Melody. See ya later, John.”

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

“Don’t mind her; she’s just my sister.” He waved his hand in dismissal, setting his bag on his desk. “Tell me, Melody, what brought you here?”

“I’m actually looking to be a professor of archaeology someday. But this position was open, and I thought I could use the experience, and well, my dad’s blind, so I thought assisting a blind professor wouldn’t be much of a stretch.”

“Archaeology, eh?”

“Yeah. I double majored in archaeology and historical studies. Got my master’s degree. Still working on my doctorate.”

“So that would put you around your mid-twenties, maybe?”

Melody laughed.

“N-no. I’m actually 30. Got a late start after I spent a few years helping my dad.”

“I see. Only a year younger than me, then. Hmmm.” His fingers tapped atop the desk. “I suppose you know that your job is fairly specialized. Not your ordinary assistant teaching position. It can be quite frustrating at times. Having no sight inhibits me from doing tasks ordinary professors would have no issue with. Like writing lesson plans, grading papers and providing visuals for my students. We’ll have to collaborate a lot. You prepared for that, Ms. Williams?” he challenged.

 “Always.”

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

Soon enough, the students returned, and Melody had never seen John so happy, so in his element.

On the first day, he entered the room, looking much like a madcap professor, tweed jacket, red bowtie and all.

“Hello, everyone! Hope you enjoyed your summer holidays! I’m Dr. John Smith, and I’ll be your history professor for this semester! How exciting! And this is my assistant professor, Ms. Melody Williams, who is well-qualified in the field, and a lover of history herself. She will be assisting me throughout the class and occasionally giving lectures, too. She’s brilliant! You’ll love her!” his hands gestured wildly to the class, and Melody felt relieved that he couldn’t see her blush.

John continued in much the same fashion, the students quickly warming up to him.

They looked so engaged, which was often a rarity, Melody knew, especially with university students. She’d had her share of dull professors in the past. But Dr. John Smith was anything but dull.

Enthusiasm just oozed off of him and onto everybody else in the room.

He clearly loved teaching and adored his students; Blindness never set him back.

Sometimes, when John Smith was engaged in his lecture, hands fluttering about, bright smile on his face, Melody forgot he was blind. But then he would flash her one of those sideways looks and she would remember, taking the cue to write on the board.

 

* * *

 

 Over time, they developed a sort of language.

She could read his gestures and expressions better than a well-worn book. And he could read her too—he knew her mood by her tone of voice or her pattern of breathing. What he lacked in sight, he made up for in other senses—hence the impeccable hearing.

Together, they made quite the team and got along rather well, apart from the daily bickering.

“No, Melody, that can’t be right! I have a perfect memory and I know the date you’re giving me is wrong!” he huffed.

“Well, Sweetie, according to my research from the _latest and most respectable_ historians in the field, it happened in 1876. Not 1863.”

“Did not! It couldn’t have! It doesn’t make any sense, Melody!”

“But that’s the date the students’ textbook has, Sweetie.” She reasoned, placing a consoling hand on his shoulder.

“Forget the textbook, Melody. It’s rubbish and inaccurate and biased and stupid!” his back hit the chair harder than he’d anticipated.

Melody sighed.

“You haven’t eaten lunch yet, have you?” Crossing her arms over her chest, she eyed him wearily.

“I…erm…I may have accidently left it at home.” He admitted sheepishly.

“You really are the absent-minded professor, aren’t you, Sweetie?” Her hand subconsciously drifted to his bowtie, and she straightened it fondly.

Opening her lunch bag, Melody removed its contents and passed them over to John.

“Here. BLT. And don’t give me that look because I know for a fact you love those.” Her voice grew stern. “Now, stop griping and eat! You still have a few classes left!”

“But Melody!” he protested, his face scrunching up. “This is your lunch. I—I can’t possibly eat it! That would be incredibly rude and selfish of me. What will you eat, then?”

“I could just go grab something in the faculty lounge. Or wait until I get home.”

“No, no, that’s not fair to you…I can’t eat this…”

“I’m not the one lecturing for the next hour, so yes, you can and you will, and if you don’t I will make you.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, really. Now eat.”

 _But it’s your birthday!_ John almost exclaimed, before reconsidering. Gentle though she could be, Melody was also very strong willed and he found it best not to argue with her when she’d made up her mind. It usually ended in him feeling like an idiot.

“Fine, _Melody_! You’re worse than my sister!”

 

* * *

 

 While John scarfed down that BLT, Melody leaned back on her desk, tired of their arguing.

It was then that she noticed it in the corner of her eye, a small vase filled with flowers. Beside the vase, a note was written in scraggly handwriting, ‘For Melody. Happy Birthday. X’

Her heart thudded and she took a shaky breath. The red carnations looked pitiful—half of them wilting and withered.

“What is this, a joke?” she wondered aloud, mind whirring.

“What, what is it? What’s wrong?” John’s head shot up instantly. “Melody?”

“Someone thought it would be funny to give me wilted flowers as a birthday present. Who even knows that my birthday is today, anyway? And look, they even made a note. With the sloppiest handwriting I’ve ever seen. Must be a grad student. They probably looked up my information and thought this would be a hilarious prank. Well, we’ll see about that.” Angry, she chucked the bouquet in the rubbish bin. “Some birthday this turned out to be.”

 

* * *

 

 “You’ve been awfully quiet since your last lecture, John, something wrong?” Melody wondered.

“I’m just…worried about you. Are you feeling alright? After earlier?” his voice filled with emotion.

“John, what—oh, you mean the flower thing? I thought we settled that it was some stupid joke. I’m over it now—”

“Melody… I’m the one who got you the flowers.” He whispered softly, hand sifting through his hair.

“What?” she squeaked, suddenly horrified.

“I…I picked them out myself this morning. That’s—that’s why I forgot my lunch. I was…distracted. I thought maybe they would…brighten your day. Obviously not. Sorry. The note was also from me. I haven’t been blind my whole life, so I can still write sometimes…but my handwriting’s rubbish because I can’t see. I was hoping to get you a better present…when I had more time…I’m so sorry, Melody…”

“John…Oh gosh…I’m an awful person.” A tear slipped down her cheek.

“No, you’re wonderful, Melody.” John stroked her face, hand trembling as he wiped her tears. “Really. I’m very sorry for upsetting you.”

“I’m the one who should be sorry. I—I wasn’t thinking—I never thought—that you would…” she sniffled, extricating the wilted bouquet from the rubbish bin and carefully placing it back in the vase. “Sweetie, this is the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me. Thank you.” Melody kissed his cheek. “Thank you.” She giggled this time, watching as his face turned bright red. “John, you’re beautiful, too, you know. You’ve got a beautiful heart.”

“So do you. Happy birthday, Melody.” He squeezed her hand comfortingly, just as she’d done the first time they met.

“Do you…would you…like to come over to my parents’ house for my birthday dinner? It would be a shame for my best friend to miss it. Especially considering how awful I’ve been to him today.”

“ ‘Course I’ll come. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” His grin brightened.

“Good. Just wait ‘til you meet my mother. She’ll _love_ you. I just know it.”

“Wait…she’s Scottish, isn’t she?” he croaked.

“What? Yeah, so?”

“She’ll eat me alive, Melody!”

“Oh, shut up, you’ll be fine. _I promise_.”

 

 

 

 


	2. Running

Perched in the passenger seat of Melody’s car, John lay back, relaxing, listening to the soothing sound of Melody’s voice.

“I called Mum a couple hours ago, and she’s chuffed that you’re coming. You’ll get to meet Dad and Anthony too.”

“Your adopted brother, right?”

“Yeah. I think you’ll like him a lot.”

“Well, if he’s got a big sister like you to look up too, I have no doubt I will.” John grinned like an idiot. “Melody?”

“What?”

 “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Being you.”

 

* * *

 

The whole way up the stairs to her parents’ house, Melody held John’s hand, carefully guiding him to the door. Blind or not, he was inherently clumsy, and she wasn’t about to let her best friend trip over his own shoelaces and fall to his very ill-timed death on her birthday of all days.

His fingers still trembled in hers when they reached the top.

“Really, Sweetie, will you stop worrying?”

“Worrying? Who said I’m worrying?”

“You haven’t stopped fidgeting since we got out of the car.” She pointed out, concerned.

“Oh. Erm. Sorry.” Shrugging, he tried to stand still, but like a giraffe trying to walk on two legs, he really couldn’t manage it.

 Having already knocked, Melody waited, tapping her foot nervously as John continued his fidgeting.

 _“Comin’! Just give me a mo.”_ The unmistakable Scottish cadence echoed through the door.

“That’d be mum.”

“So I gathered.”

In moments, the middle-aged, ginger-haired woman opened the door, before pulling her daughter into a tight embrace.

“Happy Birthday, Melody.” The tenderness in her mother’s voice cut straight to Melody’s heart. After Amelia Williams drew back, she propped a hand to her hip, eying her daughter’s companion eagerly. “Ooh, and this must be John, am I right?”

“Yes.” John chuckled nervously, giving Amelia a proper hand-shake. “Lovely to finally meet you, Mrs. Williams.”

“Oh, and so formal, Melody! But call me Amelia, John. Seriously. ‘Mrs. Williams’ makes me feel like an old hag.”

 _“Amelia!”_ A man’s voice called from the kitchen.

“What?” Amelia’s head jerked at her husband’s exclamation.

“Let them in already, will you?”

Turning back to John and Melody, Amelia smiled apologetically.

“Right, come on in, you two, dinner’s ready, the table’s set, and no, I didn’t burn anything Melody, so don’t even ask. _Anthony_ , your sister’s here!”

 _“Melody!”_ the high-pitched squeal rang in her ears as the young boy hugged her legs, almost knocking her over. “Happy Birthday, big sister!”

Ruffling her brother’s floppy hair, Melody giggled.

“Thank you, Anthony. You couldn’t just wait for me to get to the table, could you?”

“I’ve been waiting _all day_.” He whined, lingering on the last two words. “Who’s this?” His small finger pointed to the man in the bowtie.

“My friend John. Remember? We work together. I’ve told you about John before haven’t I, Anthony?”

“Hello, Anthony.” Crouching on his knees, John lowered himself to the boy’s level, offering a hand. But before he could mutter another word, the boy was hugging him too.

“Hi, Mr. John.  Welcome to our house. It’s very nice. I hope you like the food, even though Mummy’s a rubbish cook.” He whispered the last part, clearly not wanting his parents to hear.

“Anthony!” Melody scolded.

“Don’t talk about your mother like that!” Rory Williams meandered towards his son, hand carefully fingering the wall.

“How did you even hear that?”

“I’ve told you, I’ve got ears like Superman.”

“Mummy said that’s not true.” Anthony narrowed his eyes. “Daddy, have you met John? He’s Melody’s friend.”

“No, I’ve not. Good to meet you, John. I’m Rory. Now, I expect I won’t have to brandish my sword any time soon?”

“Sword?” John’s brows shot up.

Melody only laughed.

 

* * *

 

“And then, just as the car nearly squashes the life out of me, in comes your daughter to the rescue like Wonder Woman, except better. All curls and yowzah. _Amazing_.” His hands waved emphatically, and he finished with a flourish.

“You know about Wonder Woman, Mr. John?” Anthony gushed, shocked.

“’Course I do. But you know who’s even cooler than Wonder Woman? Your big sister.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. That’s not how it happened at all.”Melody’s cheeks flushed, and she rolled her eyes, dismissing his flattering remarks.

“It isn’t?” the boy squeaked.

“Well, I may have stretched things a bit for effect, but I assure you, the important bits are true. Melody _is_ amazing.”

“I’m pleased you think so highly of my daughter. And you’re right, obviously.” Rory’s voice swelled with pride.

“You bet he is.” Amelia beamed as she put the cake down. “Our daughter certainly is amazing.”

 

* * *

 

After a few hours of candle-blowing and cake-eating and present-opening, Melody and John settled into the car.

“Well, that was fun.” John quipped while Melody took the driver’s seat.

“Yeah. My family bloody loves you. That’s a plus.” She paused for a moment, silent.

“But did you have a good birthday? Overall, I mean. Even after this morning—”

“Sweetie, I already told you I’m sor—”

“But did you?”

 A fond smirk slid across her face.

“Yes, you daft man. It was brilliant. A wonderful birthday. Thank you for tagging along. Goodness knows dinner wouldn’t have been nearly as entertaining without you.”

 

* * *

 

Inching towards John’s flat, Melody walked arm in arm with John, providing the support and stability necessary to keep the blind man from injuring himself.

When she recognized the right address, she stopped, slowly dislodging her arm from John’s.

“Number 11, right?”

His nod was the only confirmation she needed.

“You called Clara, yeah? You said she’d help get you settled?” Melody fretted, hand anxiously running through her curls.

“Mmm Hmmm.”

“Okay, so you’re good then? I mean, from here? It’s getting late—so I’d better—”

“Yeah.” John mumbled, hands in his jacket pockets.

“So I’ll just—”

“Yep.”

“Okay. Well, thank you again. And goodnight, Sweetie.” Melody’s eyes drifted over John’s slumped form, and she briefly wondered why he looked so timid all of a sudden, but quickly dismissed the thought, taking her cue to leave.

She’d only made it halfway down the corridor when she heard it—his tiny, pitiful plea.

“Melody, w-wait…” the man in the bowtie stuttered nervously, holding a small item in the crook of his arm. “I—I have something for you. I—I mean, you probably won’t like it, but here.” His fingers trembled as he handed her the package. “Clara helped me wrap it.”

Slowly, Melody tore the intricately-patterned wrapping paper, gasping at its contents. A little bag of coins and a well-worn book titled, ‘Facts From History: The Bizarre and Unbelievable—What the Textbooks Never Tell You.’

“The...the coins are from my first trip to Rome. We got to do a bit of digging at an archaeological site, and I was lucky enough to find a few coins. The book is my favorite—my dad got it for my birthday one year—in fact, it’s what got me into history in the first place. I know it’s a bit old, and maybe a bit childish, and you might think it’s stupid, but I know how much you love archaeology and—” Melody’s sharp intake of breath sent his heart racing. “Melody—? I’m sorry, I--” he started, only to be rendered speechless by the pair of warm arms that drew him into a hug.

“Th-thank you. So much.” Melody whispered softly into his chest, her tears soaking into his shirt. “I don’t…why did you give these to me? They’re so important to you…John, your _dad_ …”

“I know. But _you’re_ important, Melody Williams.” He kissed her forehead, peering down at her with those grey, sightless eyes. “Happy Birthday.”

 

* * *

 

“How did it go?” Clara wondered as she helped her brother into his flat.

“Okay. Melody’s family seemed to like me—especially her mother. That woman is as Scottish as can be, I tell you! I see where Melody gets her feistiness. And her father. Kind man. Bit intimidating, but nice. And her little brother was adorable. Loved listening to my stories.”

“Well, I’m not surprised. You can be quite entertaining sometimes.” His sister nudged him playfully.

“Yes, well, I do—hey, wait, that was an insult, wasn’t it? Melody told me something similar. I swear she’s getting as bad as you.” Relaxing, John leant back on the sofa.

“Maybe that’s why you like her so much.” His soft smile quickly became a sheepish frown, and his sister tilted her head, cackling. “Anyway…did you give her the present? How did that bit go?”

“Um…I suppose it went okay. I…erm…almost didn’t give it to her.” He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed.

“I know.”

“Yeah—you _what_?”

“I know. I saw the whole thing. Quite entertaining.” She smirked.

“Clara, that—that was a private moment! You weren’t supposed to—and anyway, it doesn’t make sense, Melody would’ve noticed.” His babbling elicited another laugh from Clara.

“You’re the one who called me to get you situated. And I live in the flat down the hall, so what’d ya expect, chinboy?”

“Don’t call me that—I _hate_ that nickname!”

“Fine. But seriously, I wasn’t trying to intrude. Not my fault you took your good ol’ time comin’ home. Though it’s always funny to watch you blush.”

“ _Blush?_ I wasn’t blushing!” But his own body betrayed him, heat spreading in his cheeks.

“Then it’s terribly funny to watch you get all red and flustered and stutter-y. Also known as blushing. Which you seem to do quite a lot around Melody.”

“I—I do not.”

“See, pure denial. _Classic_. You even bought her flowers today, didn’t you? Picked ‘em out yourself. How’d that go? Wait, don’t tell me. Bad, I think. Going by your face. You got her wilted ones, am I right? And she thought it was a prank. You are so predictable, John. But obviously you two made up or she wouldn’t have invited you to dinner. And then you decided to give her your most prized possessions—the last thing your dad gave you before he died. You wouldn’t just do that for anyone.”

“She’s not anyone.” He admitted before he could think to stop himself. “I mean, she’s my _best friend_. Of course she’s important to me!”

“Just admit it. _You_ fancy her.” Clara cocked a brow, smug grin in place.

“I—I do not, Clara. She’s just a friend.”

“Sure. And you totally don’t get all nervous and rubbish and a bit shaky whenever she’s around. Or go all red and flustered. And you definitely don’t talk about her dreamily under your breath when you think nobody’s listening. Or smile like a big dork when she holds your hand to help you get around. John, you clearly fancy her, and that’s that.”

“I really don’t.” his hands flailed.

“Why is it so hard to come to terms with? There’s no shame in fancying someone. Especially someone as kind and beautiful as Melody.”

He blushed at that, scratching his cheek.

“Ask her out, why don’t you? If you don’t, you’ll miss your chance. She’s gorgeous and I’ve seen the way the other professors look at her, particularly a certain Jack Harkness, and I wouldn’t put it past him to do something soon.”

“You think I don’t know that, Clara?” his voice cracked, suddenly raw with emotion. _Where did that come from?_

“Then why don’t you just ask her out?”

“It’s not that simple! Everything with Melody is complicated. Besides, what she needs right now is a friend, and that’s the best I can be! She doesn’t see me as anything more, and she won’t. Not ever.” John sighed.

“And why not?”

“Have you seen me, Clara? I’m a bloody blind man! And do you know what people see me as? An alien. Something appalling. Something different.”

“I don’t see you like that. And Melody doesn’t either. Surely you know that.”

“But don’t you see? Whether she cares that I’m blind or not, it makes no difference. I still need extra help; I can’t do normal things on my own. I can’t even look at her properly. I’m blind and ugly and clumsy and stupid and Melody deserves someone better. A man who can compliment her when she looks pretty, or when she’s got a new hairdo. A man who can look her in the eyes and tell her she’s beautiful and precious and loved. I can _never_ be that man.” His shoulders slumped dejectedly, and he wondered why he was telling this to his sister of all people.

A moment of silence passed between them, and Clara placed a comforting hand to his back.

“Maybe you’re right. You can’t be that man. But you can be so much better. You can be the man who sees her for what she is. The man who sees the beauty of her heart. The man who tries to make her laugh when she’s having a bad day. The man who gives up his prized possession just to make her happy even when he can’t see the smile on her face. How do I know that? Because it’s who you already are, John. I’ve seen it. And I know Melody has too. Even if you haven’t. I know your first instinct is to run away, but what if you’ve finally found something worth running _to_?”

 

* * *

 

Clara’s words plagued him all that week, triggering thoughts he knew he shouldn’t be having, amplifying the feelings he’d always had but tried to suppress.

He constantly reminded himself that Melody was only his best friend and nothing more; he even tried to pretend she was his sister, but then she’d come in with that laugh that made his heart flutter, or she’d brush her hand against his and he’d find his cheeks strangely warm.

“Something the matter, John?” she asked one day, her voice kind and warm.

“Oh, nothing really. Just thinking about my next lecture. I can’t decide which topic is more interesting to discuss—the End of the Roman Empire or the End of the Han dynasty in China.”

“Couldn’t you talk about both?”

“I suppose, but it might get confusing. Two very different civilizations we’re talking about. Or not so different. But still…which is more interesting?”

“I’d say either one. But everybody knows about the fall of Rome. Why not talk about something a little less known.” Melody’s passion shone right through—something he greatly admired about her. He found himself getting side-tracked, lulled by the melodic quality of her voice. “John? Did you hear me?”

“Sorry? What?”

“What’s really on your mind?”

“I just told you. My lecture.” He scoffed, crossing his arms.

“No, you just made up an excuse and thought I’d buy it. Sweetie, believe it or not, I know you better than you think.”

 _Sweetie._ Such a simple endearment, but his heart raced every time she said it. Wait—what was the question again?

“John—”

“What?” his head shot up.

“Fine, you don’t have to tell me, but just know that I’m here if you ever need to talk about it.”

“About what?”

“Whatever’s making you look so paranoid.”

“Paranoid, I’m not paranoid!”

“I know that look when I see it.”

“What look? I’m not giving you a look. This is my normal face.”

“You really are, though.” She insisted.

“Am not.”

But much as he loathed admitting it, she couldn’t have been more right.  He really needed to learn not to hide his feelings.

Because no matter what, even when he thought he could fool her, even when he tried to give reasonable excuses, Melody always knew.


	3. Dizzy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit of a game-changer. It may be shocking now, but it will make sense later. So...read on!

Clara dropped him off at the university as usual, and now he fumbled his way to the lounge to get the morning cuppa Melody usually prepared for him.

He’d hardly made it to the doorway when he heard her laugh—that unmistakable, throaty chuckle that was so inherently _Melody_.

Dazed for a second, he stopped, leaning against the wall, fringe flopping into his face, silently savoring that beautiful laughter—well, until he realized where it was coming from.

“And that—Miss Williams, is why you should never trust a nurse. I should know, I’ve met several. Though none quite as charming and beautiful as you.” The smoothness in Jack Harkness’ voice was nauseating.

“Well, thank you, Captain. You do know how to flatter a girl.”

 _Wait, is she—is she_ flirting _with him?_

John cringed inwardly, a sagging feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Oh, believe me, there’s more where that came from.”

“I bet there is.”

Decidedly not keen on hearing the rest of that conversation, the man in the bowtie clutched his walking stick, quickly meandering to his office without the assistance of Melody.

The whole journey there, he tried to dismiss the unwelcome pain in his gut, the uncanny sensation that might otherwise have been mistaken for jealousy. But it wasn’t really that, was it? His surprise had gotten the best of him, and he’d taken his bewilderment to mean something else.

 

He wasn’t jealous; of course not.

 

* * *

 

 

“There you are!” Melody exclaimed, relief flooding her voice. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I thought maybe you were ill. But it’s not like you to miss work. Are you—is something wrong, John? You never came to the lounge--”

“Oh, well, actually I did. And you were sort of… _busy_ , so I didn’t want to be a bother.” His fingers scratched his cheek awkwardly, and he didn’t care to elaborate.

“Busy? What do you mean, ‘busy’?”

“Um…well, I suppose you were in a rather heated conversation.” John’s stomach dropped again.

“What, with who?”

“Jack Harkness!” he yelped before he could stop himself.

“Yeah, so? We were just talking, and you know…” She watched how John’s shoulders slumped. “ _Sweetie_ , why is that a problem?”

“It’s—it’s not! Of course not! It’s perfectly fine, Melody. Who said anything about ‘problem’?" his rambling was normally quite endearing to Melody, but now it worried her.

“You came in today without getting your morning tea. You’re not one to break routine, John. You must have really been put off by us if you were willing to forgo that.”

_I’d never be put off by you._

His heart raced, his palms sweating.

“Then why do you look so sad?” Wait—had he just spoken his last thought aloud?

“Sad? I’m not sad! You know me, happy as ever!” his smile brightened, but there was a hollowness to it, a superficiality.

“I know that face.”

He swallowed, caught off guard by the sincerity of her words.

“Well, it doesn’t matter because I’m going to have to get used to a different routine soon enough. Clara’s just applied for a new job, and if she gets it, which she will no doubt, she’ll drop me at work about 15 minutes earlier.”

“Okay…I’ll just get here around that time, then.”

“But Melody—”

“It’s no big deal. Really.” Her eyes narrowed. “Now can we get back to the point?”

“The point?”

“Yes, the point, where you were about to tell me why you’re jealous of Jack Harkness.” Crossing her arms, Melody sat on his desk, indignant.

“Jealous? I’m not jealous!” he scoffed, hands flying.

“Your shoulders are slumped; you’ve probably been sulking all morning, just because you heard Jack and I flirting—Honey, that is not a normal reaction.”

“S-sure it is! I was just uncomfortable, that’s all!”

“Jealous.” Melody surmised. “But seriously, John. There’s nothing to worry about. If Jack and I become an item—which we’re not, I’m just speaking hypothetically—you’re still my best friend. Nothing would change, not really. That’s what you’re worried about, isn’t it?”

_No, it’s not just that. But you wouldn’t—you wouldn’t possibly understand._

“I suppose.”

“Hey.” Her hand stroked his cheek, and he felt his face grow hot. “We’ll be fine, okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

* * *

 

 

 “Out with it, then.” Clara spat, hand on her hip.

“What?”

“Let’s see. You’ve been lounging on the sofa since we got home, drowning yourself in that awful concoction, fish fingers and custard, and you’re going to give me a blank look. Come on, John, something’s bothering you. Worse than usual, too. Bad day at work? No, don’t tell me. This has to do with Melody, doesn’t it? Always with Melody.”

John shifted uncomfortably, head turned away.

“Okay…I’ll take that as confirmation, then. Lemme guess—something happened with her and Jack, didn’t it?”

“They were flirt—wait, how would you know?”

“Because it’s written all over your face. You’re jealous. _Totally_.”

“It’s nothing, really. I don’t even know—I shouldn’t be reacting like this…I don’t want to be reacting like this. Why am I reacting like this?”

“I already explained this to you the other night. Care to deny that you fancy her now? Unwarranted jealousy is a major sign.”

“I’m not—I’m not jealous. It was just a bit uncomfortable for me. Like if I heard you flirting with someone, I wouldn’t exactly be pleased, would I?”

“I’m you’re sister, that’s different. Melody’s not.” She sighed, defeated. “Has Jack asked her out yet?”

“I—I don’t know. But she—she tried to tell me that if that happened, nothing about our friendship would change.”

“But that’s not what you’re worried about.” Clara’s hand went to his shoulder. She paused a moment, silent. “John, didn’t I tell you to ask her out while you have the chance? At least telling her how you feel wouldn’t hurt. Why is that concept so hard for you to grasp?”

“I—it’s not hard for me to grasp! I know perfectly well how to—I mean, I told you, it would never happen.”

“Yes, you’re absolutely right. If you keep saying that, it most certainly isn’t going to happen. Lucky for you, there’s a perfect opportunity coming up. That staff party they’re doing next week. You can ask her to that. Don’t even have to make it a date if you don’t want to. See, not so hard, is it?”

Groaning, John sank deep into the cushions, scratching his head, his hair a tussled mess.

 

“I think I’m going to make some _tea_.”

 

* * *

 

The next morning, John set about his daily routine, engrossing himself in the subject matter even more than usual, desperately trying to ignore the unpleasant feelings coiling deep down in his heart.

At lunch, he sat alone in his office, drenching his fish finger in the creamy custard, but lacking the resolve to bring it to his mouth. His thoughts wandered, and he wondered why Melody hadn’t yet returned from the copy room. Maybe the copiers had developed a fault; with the equipment in this school, that tended to happen, so he wouldn’t be surprised. Or perhaps Melody had gotten distracted; John himself got distracted easily, so he wouldn’t blame her. Yet somewhere in the back of his mind he knew it was more than likely another scenario, much like the one yesterday morning. Melody must’ve finally realized that a blind professor wasn’t much for company—

 “Sorry, Sweetie. I accidently forgot my lunch at home, and I didn’t realize until just now, so I had to grab something at the faculty lounge and—” John’s look of momentary shock crumbled, and he resumed the cheery, madcap professor façade in a matter of seconds. “Hey. John—did you-- did you really think I’d just leave you to have lunch by yourself? What kind of friend do you take me for?”  She shuffled through her bag, taking the seat next to him.

“I…I just figured that maybe…maybe you’d decided to…you know…eat with…some of your other friends. Or something.” His face fell. “Not that—not that that would be a bad thing. You’re perfectly welcome to eat with whoever you want.”

“But I’m _here_ , aren’t I?” she squeezed his hand consolingly, her fingers sending an unexpected burst of warmth through his body, all the way to his cheeks. He hoped she wouldn’t notice.

“Yeah.” John nodded.

 “And…I bought your favorite--Jammie Dodgers…along with some English Breakfast Tea for later.” When he didn’t give her the usual giddy response, Melody frowned, concerned. “John—”

“Thank you.” His soft smile reassured her. “You know—if you forgot your lunch, you could’ve just told me. I’d have been happy to give you mine.”

“As much as I’d appreciate the gesture, Sweetie, I’m not really one for that ridiculous concoction you deem consumable food.”

“Oi! Don’t insult my taste in food! Fish fingers and custard is delicious!”

“It’s disgusting!”

“ _Delicious_.”

“ _Disgusting_.”

They bickered back and forth; John’s face growing redder by the minute.

“ _De-LI-cious!_ And how can you say anything else? You’ve never even tried it, Melody.”

“And I never will.” She declared stubbornly.

“Oh, I’ll _make_ you. One day. I promise.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Her flirty remark beckoned a challenge, an opportunity.

“Just you wait, Melody Williams. One day you’ll understand the delicious goodness of fish fingers and custard.”

“If you insist, Sweetie.” She giggled, rolling her eyes with fond exasperation.

“You just rolled your eyes at me, didn’t you?”

Soft laughter.

“ _Melody Williams!”_

“Stop calling me that! You sound like my mother!” her voice grew stern, but John couldn’t keep a straight face.

“A feisty Scottish woman? Is that a step up from ‘daft man’?” he scooted up to her, nudging her side.

 

“Oh, no, that’s _way_ worse.”

 

* * *

 

 

John thought he’d felt a little better after lunch, but when he found himself anxiously tapping his fingers on the desk, repeating potential conversation starters in his mind, he knew he’d flung himself deeper into a hole he’d never get out of at this rate. But truth be told, he didn’t particularly want to.

 _‘So, Melody, I was wondering—I mean, I’ve been thinking about you—_ this _, I mean, for a while, and I’m starting--’…no, that’s rubbish. ‘Melody, there’s a staff party next week, and I was thinking that maybe if you didn’t have any other plans we could…you know…hook up together…’ NO, NO, NO. She’ll never talk to me again. ‘Melody, I don’t feel like we do enough together as friends. Maybe you’d like to go to the staff party with me?’ No, she’ll see through that instantly. Ugh…I don’t know what to say. She’ll probably just laugh at me anyway…why did Clara have to bring this up in the first place? It would never work._

But then he remembered their playful bickering from earlier, the sound of Melody’s giggle, the soft touch of her hand.

 “So… _Melody_ …” Clearing his throat, John coughed awkwardly, begging her attention. “I—I have a question for you.”

A beat of silence.

“Yes, Sweetie?” her voice was husky, rougher than usual. And not in a good way. Something was wrong, very wrong. And he, being the thick idiot he was, didn’t notice until now.

_Hmm. Let’s see…strained voice, shaky breathing, fatigue…_

“Wh-what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just have a bit of a headache, that’s all.” She sounded pained, exhausted.

“Do you—do you want a cuppa, or something? I could—”

“No, Sweetie, it’s fine. I’ve gotten these loads of times over the years. I can manage. Besides, there’s a lot of work left to be done—”

“Melody, if you’re feeling ill, you should—”

“I’m _fine_. Seriously. Forget I mentioned it.” Her quickness to dismiss his concerns unnerved John. How often did she hide how she really felt?

“Melody—”

“Now what was it you wanted to ask me?” Melody gently whispered, still patient despite her apparent condition, bless her.

_Doesn’t matter. Not now._

 

“Oh, _what_? I dunno. I suppose I’ve forgotten.”

 

* * *

 

 

Before she could protest, John placed the smoldering cup of tea in front of her.

“Here you go, Miss Williams. Camomile, your favorite.”

“John, I told you—”

“Enough about what you told me. You’re feeling awful, and you could really use a cuppa, so I made you one.”

“White. No sugar—”

“Yes, yes, I know. And no, I didn’t mess it up. I know I’m blind, but I’ve made tea enough times to know how—”

“It’s lovely, Sweetie. Thanks.” He heard her hum as she sipped the steaming liquid and suddenly battled the urge to run his fingers through those soft, silky curls—wait, where did that come from? “But this was just an excuse to touch my hair, wasn’t it?”

Hang on—did he just—oh, no—

“I didn’t—I mean, I was just trying to—”

But she cut him off, kissing him softly on the cheek as she’d done once before. Only this time, John reckoned his heart was about to jump out of his chest.

_Thump-thumpthump-thump-thump-thump._

 

“You’re very sweet, John. Always so kind to me. _Thank you.”_

* * *

“Oh, hello, John. Didn’t expect to see you here. And this must be your sis--” Amelia stepped onto the doormat, eying the two brunettes curiously—until she saw her daughter.

John’s arm looped around Melody’s waist protectively as she leant on him for support.  

“Omigosh— _Melody!”_ the ginger woman yelped, turning back to the house. “ _Ro-ry!”_

“I’m…I’m all right, mother, just a bit…dizzy… I swear, I’m fine…”

John held her hand tightly, pressing a lingering kiss to her head.

 

“You’re going to be. Now that you’re home. I promise.”

 

* * *

 

“How are you feeling?” her father’s calm tone lulled her out of her sleepy state.

“Dad? Wh-what happened? Where’s John?”

“You blacked out, Melody. Again. You’re lucky John was there this time.” A warm washcloth rested on her brow.

“Wha—John?”

“He and his sister dropped you off. He said he might come by later if you’re feeling better. How does that sound?”

“Okay.” She rubbed her eyes.

“You’re lucky to have a friend like him.” Rory stroked her cheek. “He really cares about you.”

“I know.”

“ _Melody?”_ Another voice cut in, raw and emotional.

“It’s okay, mum. You know…you know…why this happens. I-I’m sorry for scaring you.”

“Hey, you have nothing to be sorry for. None of this is your fault.” Amelia hugged her daughter close, tears falling into those beautiful curls. “I’m just glad you’re alright. My Melody.”


	4. Confession

After knocking on the door, John stood beside his sister, anxious.

“John, you need to calm down. She’s gonna be fine. Rory called and told us she’d woken up, remember? Stop worrying.” Clara’s attempts to console him met little success.

“She blacked out, Clara! That can’t be good! What if—what if she’s—”

Before he could finish his frantic babbling, the door slid open, and Amelia Williams’ heavy breathing caught his attention.

“Oh, good. You’re here. She’s sleeping right now, but she’ll be happy to see you when she gets up. So in you come. And your sister too. Clara, right?”

Clara nodded slowly, linking her arm through John’s as they entered the Williams’ home.

 

* * *

 

“What’s wrong with her?” John sat with Clara, Amelia and Rory in the kitchen.

“She blacked out.” Rory explained calmly.

“Well, I know that. But _why_? Melody said she’s been getting these headaches for years, so this isn’t the first time, is it?” Frustration filled his voice.

“It’s…well, it’s hard to explain. We don’t know exactly. But she’s been getting these headaches and blackouts for over ten years…on and off. Nothing severe. And they’ve gotten less and less frequent. I don’t think she’s had one in a few years.” Amelia’s explanation seemed truthful yet incomplete, lacking some important detail.

“Hang on. What happened ten years ago?” the question hung amid the still air.

“If ya don’t mind him asking.” Clara cut in, hoping her brother didn’t sound too insensitive.

“Melody went through a tough time. With Rory having recently returned home from Iraq blind and all. It was a hard adjustment for all of us…” the older woman trailed off, as if ready to elaborate, but decidedly against it.

“Of course. Right. Sorry. Probably shouldn’t have asked. Touchy subject. Not really my place.”

“No, it’s alright. We know that you really care about our daughter…and--”

“ _Dad_ , are you talking about me?”

His daughter’s hoarse voice ushered Rory out of the conversation.

“Sorry, love. We were trying to stay quiet. How are you feeling, Melody?” Rory wondered, moving closer to where Melody lay in the living room.

“I’m fine. Just a bit of a headache left. Not nearly as bad as earlier. Is…is John here yet?” her last plea rippled to John’s heart, and he hesitated, waiting for her parents’ cue. Amelia’s soft ‘go ahead’ was all he needed.

With Clara’s help, he quickly found his way to the sofa, crouching down beside his friend.

“Hey.” He whispered, reaching for her hand. “I’m here.”

“Thank you. For-for helping me when I was too stubborn to help myself.” Her warm hand pressed against his cheek, sending shivers down his spine.

“You’re very welcome.” John couldn’t think of anything else to say. “I couldn’t expect anything less, really. Brave and strong-willed as you are. And I—I mean that in the best way possible.”

Melody chuckled, a deep throaty sound that turned John’s ears bright red.

“You certainly sound a lot better, if that’s anything to go on.” He rubbed his thumb against her palm, tracing light circles on her skin.

Her sharp intake of breath sent an unexpected pang of sadness to his heart.

“ _Melody_. Please… don’t do that to me again. If you ever feel the slightest bit ill, just tell me. Don’t wait till you’ve nearly collapsed and send me into a panic attack and near early death.” He tried to laugh, but somehow it sounded hollow, forced.

And Melody’s silence afterwards was too long, _far_ too long.

 

* * *

 

“So…” John coughed, suddenly nervous again. “You must…you must be tired; sorry, probably should be leaving now, I suppose. Just wanted to check up on you…glad you’re okay and all…You’re probably bored of my rambling and by now I bet I sound so dull I’ve put you to sleep…I really need to learn when to stop talking.”

“Yeah, you really do.” Clara quipped, as her brother stumbled over his words.

“Yes, right, sorry, I—”

“Actually, I was wondering if you two would like to stay for dinner? I’m starting to feel quite hungry, so I was just thinking…well, If—if that’s alright with you, Mum?” Melody asked, much to John’s surprise. And embarrassment.

“Yeah, sure. The more the merrier I always say!” Amelia winked at them, looking perhaps too pleased for Melody’s liking.

“You do _not_ always say that, Mummy.” Anthony poked his head in to the living room, back from some (convenient) time at his friend’s house.

“Oi, Mr. Don’t get smart with your ol’ Mum.”

“Trust me, Son. She’s right about that.” Rory kissed his wife fondly, eliciting a horrified squeak from Anthony.

“EWWWWWW!! That’s dis _gust_ ing! I’m gonna go see Melody, and get away from you guys!”

Melody smiled genuinely for the first time that evening, briefly squeezing John’s hand before her little brother nearly tackled them both.

“Melody. You’re okay.” His face sank into her hair.

“ ‘Course she’s okay, Anthony; she’s stronger than Wonder Woman, remember?”  John reminded him, smirking at Melody, who blushed.

“Oh yeah. Hi again, Mr. John. Thanks for helping my big sister.”

“No problem, man. But Clara helped too.” He nodded to the brunette sitting behind him.

“Hello!” Clara waved enthusiastically, her brown locks bobbing up and down.

But Anthony stared openly, mouth agape, suddenly quieter than he’d been in the past day.

“Anthony, honey, Clara here’s our guest, it’d be rude not to say hello.” Melody’s harshness beckoned the boy out of his momentary trance.

“Uh…hello.” He mumbled. “Melody… is Clara… an angel?”

“Why would you think that, Anthony?”

“Because she’s _so_ pretty.” Anthony’s admission got him a fond look from Clara.

“Why thank you, Anthony.” She giggled.

“But it’s true. Don’t you think so, Mr. John? Isn’t Clara pretty?”

“I—uh, well. Haven’t exactly been able to look at her in a while. I suppose she is maybe a bit. But she’s my sister, Anthony, so I can’t say anything too nice about her, can I?”

“Why not? I say nice things about Melody. I think _she’s_ very pretty too. But yeah, she is my sister. So it’s not really the same. You think my sister’s pretty though, Mr. John. I know you do.”

“Wh-why do you say that?” he stuttered.

“Because you’re always so nice to her like Daddy is to Mummy, and you look so happy to see her. And then your cheeks go all red when you hold hands—just like Daddy’s do when Mummy kisses him, but ewwww, kissing’s gross, have you kissed Melody, Mr. John?”

“Um, well, I…” John released Melody’s hand, trudging his fingers through his hair, feeling much like a blushing schoolboy forced into confronting his crush. Behind him, Clara laughed softly; he would deal with her later.

“ _Anthony_.” Melody started. “John and I are just friends, I _told_ you. Now don’t--”

“But Melody, your cheeks are red too--”

“ _Okay,_ little Mr., that’s quite enough. Lucky for you, it’s time for dinner. Come on; give your sister and her friends some space, eh?” Amelia’s smirk was big enough to burn a hole through the wall. Clara seemed to be looking much the same way, which didn’t comfort Melody at all.

“Smart kid. Cute.” Yep, Clara’s grin could trump Amelia’s, if that was even possible.

“Sorry about that. Both of you. He’s young. Doesn’t know what he’s talking about most of the time.” Melody shrugged apologetically.

“If you insi—”

“Stop smirking.” John cut his sister off before she could even finish.

“How did you even—” Clara started.

“I have my methods…”

 

* * *

 

Dinner included the usual small talk, along with some entertaining moments here and there. Namely John nearly knocking over his own plate out of clumsiness, which was only narrowly avoided by Melody’s gentle, guiding hand. They all had a proper laugh about it—especially Amelia, unbelievably Scottish as she was.

“You know, one time, when we were kids, John almost tripped over his own rubber ducky in the bathtub? Seriously, and of course this was before—”

“Clara, this is not appropriate dinner conversation!” John fumed at her, cheeks hot with embarrassment.

Across the table, he could hear Amelia laughing hysterically. 

“Amelia—” Rory interjected, defending his guest.

“What, so that really happened, Sweetie?” Melody urged playfully, sweeping his fringe out of his face.

“No, no, it didn’t—it didn’t happen like that!”

“Well, regardless, it’s a bit adorable. Adorably pitiful to be honest, but still endearingly adorable and _so_ you.” The warmth and fondness of her tone sent his heart racing.

“Well…yeah.” He straightened his bowtie, suddenly proud. Until he realized the full effect of her words. “Wait a second—”

 

* * *

 

“Dinner was lovely, Mr. and Mrs. Williams. Really. Thanks for letting me tag along.” Clara waved, removing her coat from the hanger.

“No problem, Clara. You and John are always welcome here.” Amelia smiled. “I’m glad Melody has friends like you.” She whispered quietly, eyes tinged with tears.

“Well, John wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for her.” Clara’s voice wavered for a second. “Speaking of which, where _are_ John and Melody?” She gave Amelia a wry look.

“Last I saw, they were in the living room chatting with Anthony. And looking very _comfortable_ together…” Amelia added, her face erupting into a knowing grin.

“Well, I’ll see if I can get the two lovebirds to come out of their nest.”

 

* * *

 

 

When she reached the living room, Clara stopped, quietly analyzing the scene in front of her.

Her brother sat on the floor, legs crossed, listening to the animated Anthony. Beside him, Melody leant back, using her arm for balance, her left hand only centimeters away from John’s. Every now and then she would drum her fingers like an expert pianist, subtly moving closer and closer to her companion’s.

Clara’s gaze settled on John again, the bright glow of joy on his face warming her heart.

She hated to interrupt the picturesque moment, but the day had worn her out, and she feared that if she waited too much longer she might be too tired to drive.

“John,” she tapped him on the shoulder softly. His head shot up immediately towards her. “Time to go. Here’s your jacket.”

“But I don’t want you to go!” Anthony complained.

“Hey, I’ll come back some other time, buddy. That is, if your sister invites me—”

“Course he’ll be back. Now, you Little Mister are ready for bed. Mummy will tuck you in while I say goodnight to John and Clara, okay?”

“But Melody—”

“Oi, don’t talk to your sister like that. When it’s bedtime, it’s bedtime, no buts about it.” Amelia jutted in, and Clara realized she’d been leant against the doorframe the entire time, sly old Scottish woman she was.

“ _Sorry_ Mummy.”

 

* * *

 

“Are you absolutely sure you’re going to be alright?” he whispered into Melody’s curls as they embraced.

“I’m fine, Sweetie. And besides, I’m doing the lecture on Monday, remember? Have to be ready for that.”

“But really—if you’re not up to it—”

“I am. Or I will be. So stop worrying.” Her fingertips fluttered atop his cheek. “Thanks for coming. It was a lot of fun.”

Just when Clara thought she’d been completely invisible to the other two people in the hallway, Melody detached herself from John and pulled Clara into a loose hug, catching her off guard.

“Thank you too, Clara. You’re the one who got me here safely. And you’ve had more than your share of dealing with this idiot.”

“Hey, I am not an idiot!”

“You’re the most sentimental idiot I know, and I think it’s adorable.” Melody reassured her friend, clapping him on the shoulder.

He blushed, fidgeting with his bowtie.

“See you on Monday, then.”

“Yeah. Goodnight, Sweetie.”

 

* * *

 

 Hours later, Melody snuggled under her covers, absorbed in an old, well-worn book.

Her hand smoothed the weathered page, as she read the tiny sticky-note, which now rested between the pages.

_‘Wow, that’s cool; I’ll have to show this to Dad.’_

She’d seen John’s boyish handwriting strewn throughout the book, clearly it had been something he’d loved and treasured. But reading the words he’d written as a child on this particular page wrenched her heart. While John seldom discussed the death of his father, Melody knew the loss hurt him deeply.

Sometimes she would catch him staring vacantly into space, the saddest look on his face, and she would wonder if he was thinking about his dad. Now, getting an insight into his childhood thoughts and musings, she felt the burden of that loss more than ever before, and it hurt her too.

“Melody?” her mother’s (surprisingly) soft voice ushered her out of her thoughts. “Do you mind if I come in?”

“Not at all.” Placing her birthday gift on the bedside table, Melody relaxed, hugging her knees to her chest so her mother had a place to sit.

Even though they lived in the same house, it wasn’t often that her mother knocked on her door. The basement was Melody’s space; she paid her part of the rent for it, and it was the closest she had to her own flat.

“Wow, you’re obviously working hard on something,” Amelia nodded at the piles of notes splattered across her daughter’s desk.

“Yes, well, I need to be ready for my lecture on Monday.”

“Were you sleeping?” Amelia Williams asked, perched on the edge of Melody’s bed. “If you were—I’m sorr—”

“No, just reading. It’s fine, mother. I don’t mind.”

“That book? What does it say, ‘Facts From History: The Bizarre and Unbelievable—What the Textbooks Never Tell You’? Sounds interesting. A bit old.”

“John gave it to me for my birthday. His dad had given it to him when he was really young.”

“Really sweet of him.” Amelia smirked.

“Mother, it’s not like that.” She turned her face away, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks.

“Then why are you blushing?”

“Because you’re putting me on the spot, Mum.”

“Oh, and what about that hand-holding earlier? And that extra- long hug, eh?”

“He was happy to see me, that’s all; he’d been worried, I’m his best friend, after all. And weren’t you supposed to be putting Anthony to bed?” Melody shot her an accusatory look.

“I happen to have good eyes.”

“ _Mum_.”

“Okay, fine, I snuck a peek while your brother was brushing his teeth.”

“ _Mother_.”

“Sorry. I just—Melody, if he hadn’t been there, who knows—”

“But he _was_ , and I’m fine, I promise.”

“You could’ve called.”

“I didn’t think I would blackout. I thought—I hoped maybe this time it was just a regular headache. It’s been over ten years now since—since…”

“I know.” Amelia’s jaw tightened as she took her daughter’s hand. “Have you—have you told John?”

“No.” Melody’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “I can’t.” She managed, voice shaking. “He might never speak to me again if he knew…and anyway, I’ve been working a long time to get past all that.”

“Melody, none of it was your fault. Do you hear me, _none of it_! You don’t even remember most of it, for goodness sake. John would understand, Melody, I’m sure of it. He cares about you enough that he would. And don’t you dare tell me otherwise because I _know_ it, Melody. His face lights up the moment you walk in the room; he brought you here today because he was afraid for you. He held your hand when you woke up. He clearly _adores_ you, Melody.”

“Then you know why I can’t lose him.”

 

* * *

 

 

Melody closed her eyes, leaning on the desk.

“You’ve been awfully quiet today. Sure you’re not feeling ill because if you are—”

“For the hundredth time, Sweetie, I am over that.” She huffed, sounding harsher than intended. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“Then what’s bothering you?” he spoke quietly, brushing his fingers over hers.

Her mind raced and she thought back to her mother’s words.

 _‘He clearly_ adores _you, Melody.’_

Part of her wanted to tell him the truth, to tell him as he reached for her hand that terrible secret buried deep within her heart, the scar from her past that she tried ever so hard to forget, the wound that kept stinging, even after all this time.

So instead she told him a half-truth, an excuse, really.

“Just a bit nervous, that’s all.”

“About your lecture? Melody Williams, you are the most brilliant, _capable_ woman I know, and you are going to be _amazing_.”

 

* * *

 

 

John was right, of course.

And more than once during her lecture on the first archaeologists he found himself completely taken aback. The confidence she spoke with, the ease. The way the words rolled off her tongue so beautifully, so passionately, so purposefully.

Melody was born teach, and he told her so.

“I should have you lecture more often. You were _brilliant_ today, Melody. Absolutely _amazing_.”

“Well, I’m glad someone thought so.” She shrugged. “I don’t know, I just…I stumbled over my words quite a bit. I’m sure everyone thought I looked ridiculous, flailing my hands about and talking about archaeology.”

“You looked beautiful.” He admitted softly before he could stop himself.

“Sweetie, no offense—”

“Meaning the opposite.”

“--But you can’t…you can’t even see me.”

Her words stung, like a punch in the gut.

“John, I didn’t mean—”

“Melody, I can’t—I can’t see you with my eyes, no…but I can still see you. Your enthusiasm and your passion and your confidence. It’s beautiful.”

Melody’s breath caught and in that moment she was suddenly very glad he couldn’t see the tears in her eyes. She bit her lip, unsure what to say.

“So…” She tried to change the subject with the first thing that came to mind. “…that staff party Friday night…”

“Yeah, that. Well, it sounds rather fun, with dancing and food and—”

“You going?”

Her question evidently unnerved John, going by his stuttering.

“I—well, I d-don’t know.”

“Why not? It’ll be fun, like you said, and why the nervous face?”

“Going by myself would be a little awkward for this occasion.”

It took her a second to understand his meaning. Oh.

“You don’t think you’ll be able to get a date?”

Gulping, John scratched his cheek.

“ _Sweetie_ , now who’s being ridiculous?”

“I—”

“There’s plenty of options. If only you’d just bump up your confidence. Take Martha, for instance. Medical Studies professor, clearly fancies you.”

“WHAT? Since when—I didn’t—I talk to her sometimes but I don’t really _know_ her.”

“Well, now’s your chance. Just ask her—”

“Melody, I don’t want to go out with Martha—”he spluttered, hands flapping.

“Really? She seems pretty nice. Hmmm…who else then? Rose?”

“No! And she’s taken anyway. Goes out with that other John.”

“Right, that spikey-haired, skinny—”

“Yes, I think that’s him.”

“Who else then? Wait, who do _you_ want to go with, John?”

“I don’t—no one. Doesn’t matter. I’ll just stay home with Idris. Better that way.”

“Surely there’s someone. It’s not something to be nervous about John. Just tell me, and I can help you—”

“Only if you tell me who _you’re_ going with.” he crossed his arms over his chest, indignant.

“Well, Jack asked me. So I was thinking that maybe I’d go with him. There. Now who—”

“It’s not important.”

“’Course it is. Out with it.”

“No.”

“You promised—”

“Why do you care anyway?” he shouted, angry.

“John? Why—why is that even a question? You’re my best friend, of course I care! I want you to be happy. Are you afraid that I’m going to judge you if you tell me, is that it?”

Taking a deep breath, John sighed.

“No, that’s not why.”

“You don’t trust me?” she whispered, confused and hurt.

_Can you really not see, Melody?_

“Of _course_ I trust you.” His voice was raw, broken.

“Then why—”

“Because you wouldn’t understand.” He lowered his head.

“Try me.”

“She doesn’t want to go out with me.”

“How can you be so sure? Have you asked her?”

“I—I almost did. But I can’t.”

“And why not?”

His heart stopped just then, and John, knowing she’d only keep asking, cradled her hand in his, and leant in, his hot breath against her ear so she wouldn’t have to see his face.

“Because you’re already going with someone else.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah...you'll probably hate me for that ending. Sorry:-P 
> 
> You might be wondering how Melody could possibly be so oblivious--well, think of how teenage Amy was in LKH. She had been best friends with Rory for TEN YEARS and she had NO IDEA he liked her. It's a similar thing here. Melody knows John cares about her, but she hasn't really come to terms with what that really means, nor has she come to terms with her own feelings for him. But now she has to...so we'll see what happens.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter:)


	5. Realization

Her breath hitched suddenly, her mouth gaping open as she processed his soft-spoken words; she shivered at the sensation of his closeness, speechless.

Melody’s hand trembled in John’s, the familiar touch now uncomfortable, and utterly terrifying, intimate even.

 “ _What?”_ she managed, lips quivering.

Why—why hadn’t she known?

Her knees buckled and she swayed backwards, dizzy and light-headed, the world blurring around her like a dream. Fear gripped her heart, and Melody surely would’ve hit the cold, hardwood desk, had it not been for John’s (shockingly) quick reflexes.

In seconds he held her, his arms tight around her waist, gentle, warm.

“Melody…hey, hey, I’ve gotcha.” He whispered, securing her as best he could.

“John—but you—”she forced herself to balance, channeling all her remaining energy.

“I’m sorry. I said you wouldn’t understand. I shouldn’t have—”

“No, it’s my fault.” She wobbled again, and he caught her instantly, prepared.

_‘Because you’re already going with someone else.’_ His confession echoed in her mind, finding its way to her rapidly beating heart.

Guilt seeped into her body as she recalled the previous conversation and her own obliviousness. Poor John.

 Oh gosh, _John._

And suddenly she knew she couldn’t stay there, not like this, in his unwavering arms, she had to leave, had to think, had to just _get out_.

“I…I have to…have to pick up Anthony, I’m sorry, John. We’ll talk later, okay.”

“Melody—”

She rushed out of the office and didn’t even cast another glance in John’s direction, the truth still too fresh, too raw. Perhaps John would believe her excuse, it wasn’t a lie; after all, she did have to pick up her brother.

An hour later she realized she’d left so quickly she hadn’t even taken her purse. Plausible excuse, indeed.

* * *

 

“ _Melody_ , what’s wrong? Why do you look so sad?” Anthony asked for the hundredth time as they reached the door to the house. “I don’t like seeing you sad, Melody.”

“I’m fine, Anthony. Now, when we get inside I want you to go straight to doing your homework, alright? Mum should be home soon.”

“But Melody—”

 “No, buts Anthony—” she instructed, wiggling her index finger. “Now, go do your homework or Mummy will come home and get upset.”

* * *

 

 Melody hunched over her desk, scouring the piles and piles of notes for this week’s lectures.

She tried to focus on the words, to process the information, but somehow she couldn’t.

Her brain fogged up, her vision blurring yet again.

“This is useless!” she grunted, her back hitting the chair hard.

After forcing herself to walk a couple steps, Melody collapsed on her bed, clutching her mobile to her chest.

_Just call him. You can’t leave it like you did. It’s not fair to John. He doesn’t deserve this._

I _don’t deserve him._

That nagging sense of guilt crept back into her heart, and she sniffled, remembering her quickness to leave the office and unwillingness to look at John’s face.  So much for being a friend and actually listening to what he had to say. She’d been the one begrudging him in the first place; if she hadn’t insisted on him telling her the truth, they could’ve avoided this whole mess.

The more she pondered it, the more she realized just how awful and immature she’d acted towards John. How could she just run off and leave like his confession didn’t matter at all?

 Rolling on her side, Melody groaned, the hollowness in her chest weighing her down.

She could still feel his warm breath against her ear, his gentle fingers curling around hers, his quiet sigh as he whispered the truth.

The truth.

The terrible, frightening, unbelievable, amazing truth. John, sweet John, adorable John, beautiful John, her best friend, who had never been anything but kind and understanding and compassionate, actually—

No, she couldn’t finish that thought, couldn’t possibly come to terms with what he’d said.

If only she would’ve never brought up that stupid party, if only she’d kept quiet and let John continue his usual rambling, if only everything could go back to the way it had been.

But it was too late for that.

 

* * *

 

“Melody…” Amelia opened the door slowly, cautiously, only to see her daughter curled on the bed like a frightened little girl. “What happened?” she drew the chair to the edge of the bed, taking Melody’s hand. “Hey.”

“I’m—I’m fine, Mum. This is so stupid, really. Gosh, I’m acting like a little kid, aren’t I? How embarrassing.” Melody sat up a bit, wiping her eyes with her fists.

“We all need a proper cry every once in a while, Melody. Even adults. You don’t need to be—”

“You don’t understand, Mum—I… I acted _horrendously_ today.”

“This has to do with John, am I right?”

Her daughter’s face crumbled. Melody nodded, ashamed.

“How did you even—”

“Because nothing else could’ve upset you this much.”

Sucking in a breath, Melody decided to just get it over with.

“John…fancies me.” she mumbled, unwilling to look her mother in the eye.

“And the penny drops…”

“Mum! Stop it! It’s not funny.”

“I never said it was.” Amelia sympathized, tone suddenly serious. “I may be an old grumpy Scottish woman now, but I know how these things work. And I’m pretty sure I know exactly how you’re feeling right now, honey.”

“You can’t. You couldn’t possibly.”

“But I could. Because I’ve gone through this before myself. With your dad. We were best friends for ten years—”

“Mum, don’t even start, I know the story—” she rolled her eyes, sinking back into her pillow.

“Oi, just listen will you? Your father, Rory, was my best friend. For so long. We did everything together. We hung out all the time after school, we played at each other’s houses, we knew each other’s families. And it was brilliant. I loved it just the way it was. I never—I never thought anything would change. But then one ordinary day, just like any other—the penny dropped for me. My best friend, sweet Rory, funny Rory, gorgeous Rory, had fancied me for years. And I made the biggest idiot of myself; I thought he was gay. He insisted that he wasn’t and I was confused. When had he ever shown the slightest interest in a _girl?_ But then I saw his face, the love and fear in his eyes, and I knew. It clicked. And poor Rory, he ran away; gosh, he was so embarrassed. And I stood there in shock, feeling like the most horrible friend in the world. How had I not seen it? How could I miss something so, so important, when it had been smack dab in front of me? It was absolutely terrifying.”

Melody’s eyes glistened and she stayed silent for a moment.

And then Amelia heard it, that innocent, frightened voice of her precious girl.

“What—what do I do, Mum? How do I fix this?” Melody trembled, desperate.

In seconds, Amelia held her daughter in her arms, rocking her back and forth, just as she had when Melody was young.

“Well, do you want to know what I did? I went after Rory, even though I was young and confused and scared, I ran after him. So if you care about John, and I know you do, don’t try to run away. Don’t try to pretend everything’s the way it used to be because it isn’t, Melody, not anymore. Just talk to him. Be honest. I know it feels like everything’s crashing down around you, but think about how John must feel right now.”

“I have.” She admitted, face downcast. “And I’ve already hurt him enough as it is. What if—what if I don’t say the right thing? What if I lose my best friend? Or maybe I already have.” A beat of silence. “I’m…I’m afraid, Mum.”

 “I know, Melody. But I think you’ll soon find, as I have, that sometimes the best things in life are the scariest.”

* * *

 

 

Clara sighed, watching her brother curl up next to Idris on the sofa and drown himself in a carton of custard-flavored ice cream. Melody’s purse was squished between him and the arm of the couch, where he kept his mobile.

 A pitiful sight if she ever saw one.

“You can’t do this all day, John.” She tapped her foot impatiently, hoping to get her point across.

Despite her irritation, Clara genuinely empathized with her brother, and it hurt to see him so hopeless, so depressed.

“John, please. I’m sorry if that sounded mean or bossy, I’m not trying to—what I mean to say is, I just…I just want to help you, John. So just…talk to me.” she stammered, settling down beside him.

“You’re the one who got me into this mess, Clara.” He tried to sound cross, but the pain in his voice betrayed him.

“Hey.” Her hand cupped his shoulder. “This is my fault, then?”

“No.” John shrugged, sheepish. “But I shouldn’t have followed your advice.”

“Oh, I see.” Clara bit her lip. “So you asked her out?”

“Not exactly. But sort of. I mean, she knows now that I—” he blinked rapidly, head down.

“Okay. What happened, then?”

“She…I think she almost fainted. And then, when she regained her balance, she just ran away. So quickly she left her purse behind. And I—I didn’t want anyone to steal it, so I’m keeping it safe. Until—well…”

“I’m proud of you.”

“Why? I’ve made everything more complicated than it already was. And now she’ll never talk to me _ever_ again.”

“If you really believe that, then why is your mobile so close by? You’re clearly waiting for her to call—”

“But—but what if she doesn’t, Clara?”

“Gosh, you’re so thick, John. Melody…she really cares about you. I’ve seen it. But sometimes when you really care about someone, you can be blinded to the truth. What you told her today was a shock, and she reacted the way most people do, out of fear and confusion. So she ran. But Melody isn’t one to abandon the people she cares about.”

Almost in the nick of time, the phone started ringing right then, and unsurprisingly, John answered it instantly.

“Hello…?” he practically squeaked.

_“Hey, John, it’s Melody.”_

His heart pounded so hard he swore she could hear it on the other end.

“Hi.”

_“Um…are you busy right now?”_

“N-not really.” He dropped the spoon he’d been eating with and placed the carton on the floor.

_“Well, I was…I was wondering if maybe we could…we could…um…go somewhere…to…to talk. Maybe, maybe that pizza place down the street from your house? That way it wouldn’t… it wouldn’t be too much of a hassle to get there. But if…if you don’t want to…it’s fine. And I understand.”_

“No, no, that’s a great idea. What time?”

_“Um…I was thinking around six maybe? Or is that too early, we could always…”_

“It’s fine. Sounds good.”

_“Okay. See you then?”_

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” the dead tone on the other line told him she’d hung up.

Absorbed in thought, he’d nearly forgotten Clara was there until she decided to interject.

“See, what did I tell you?”

“Who said that was Melody?”

“I think you just did. As if the nervous voice and the red cheeks wasn’t an indication. And for future reference, when answering a call in a split second, you might not want to put it on speaker.”

His brows furrowed and it took him a moment—

“Hang on, I did WHAT?”

“Yep, and you didn’t even notice. I could say a lot of things about that, but I won’t. Now, off you go, don’t want to miss your first date.”

“It—it is not a date! Just a—a friendly outing to settle things. It’s definitely not a date. Melody’s already made it clear that—”

“If you say so.” She giggled, hand over her mouth.

_“Clara!”_

“What?”

 “Stop smirking."

 

* * *

 

An hour later, John stood in the foyer dressed and ready, tails, bowtie and all.

“Oh, yeah. A suit and tails. Totally not a date at all.” Clara mocked, keys jiggling in her hand. “And you know, besides the everyday tweed and bowtie, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you dress up. But anyway, I’m sure you’re eager to get to your little ‘friendly outing.’ So off we go.”

Arm and arm, John and Clara trotted down the street, the noise of constant traffic swelling around them.

“And there it is!”

“Wait…wait a second.” John tugged her back, stopping. “Clara…how…how do I look?”

“Like a ridiculously overdressed mor—I mean, _or-_ chestra conductor. Actually, come to think of it, that is a fairly accurate description. But we’re already here, so before you even ask, no, we are not going back. And besides…I’m not sure Melody will mind.”

“Clara, what’s that—what’s that supposed to mean?” his hands flailed in front of him.

“That we need to get inside before you start a scene.” Clara insisted before dragging him through the doors of Gianelli’s Pizza.

“Clara, what was that about—”

 “And there she is.” Clara’s whisper cut straight to his heart. He gulped, nervous. “Oh, John, she’s even done her hair up. That’s a good sign. Off you go—” she nudged him in the right direction. “See ya later, John.”

* * *

 

Startled by the sudden sound of clacking metal, Melody looked up from her menu to see John nearly knocking over the table beside her. Thankfully, it was empty.

She caught her clumsy friend in seconds, carefully setting the table back in proper position.

“You alright, Sweetie?” her hand curled around his and she led him to the booth where she’d been sitting.

“S-sorry. I—I suppose that wasn’t the best entrance.”

“No, it really wasn’t.”

"Here's--here's your purse. Didn't want anyone to take it, so I kept it safe." 

"Thank you. Very sweet, John." she took the bag from him, watching as he flushed.

 Melody’s breath stilled as she got a proper view of his sharp, tailored suit, black bowtie (perfectly tied), and that adorably sheepish expression.

“What’s wr—Oh, it’s the suit, isn’t it? Sorry, I may have gone a bit over the top, Clara didn’t tell me until we were right outside the restaurant, and by that time it was already too late and I couldn’t change so—”

“You…you look… _great_ , Sweetie.” She swallowed hard, threading her fingers through his.

“I do?” He croaked. “Oh, yeah, course I do!” straightening his bowtie, John grinned.

“And now you just look inordinately smug.”

“Oh, sorry, I wasn’t meant to…I didn’t mean…”

_“Sweetie.”_

“Sorry.”

“No, Sweetie, the waiter’s about to take our order.”

“Oh.” He let go of her hand immediately.

“And what can I get for you today, signora?” the waiter asked, Italian accent thick.

“Oh, um… just a water, a medium pepperoni pizza, with a side salad.”

“And for your husband, signora?”

 John blushed, embarrassed.

“ _Husband_ —he’s n—” Melody’s stomach dropped, her heart beating madly.

“I’ll…I’ll just have a water. And share the rest with her.” He stuttered, having heard the man’s erroneous assumption.

 “Si, si. I will be back soon.” He winked at them before moving to the next table.

* * *

 

“So…” Melody wafted her straw through her water, pizza slice still sprawled on her plate. “I’m…I’m really sorry about earlier. John, it just took me by surprise…and I…I wasn’t exactly prepared. I shouldn’t have—shouldn’t have run off like I did—I’m sorry.” She hung her head, apologetic.

Reaching across the table, John took both her hands in his.

“I…I forgive you, Melody. And I’m sorry too. I should’ve kept it to myself, waited for a better time—”

“No—I’m glad you told me.” She pressed her hand to his cheek, lingering there for a moment.

He closed his eyes, savoring the feel of her touch, knowing it would be short lived.

“But I don’t want to… to hold you back from having fun Friday night. I hope you and Jack have a really nice time—”

“I never said I was going with Jack, John.” She whispered, voice soft.

“Yes, you—what?”

“I said he asked me, and I _might_ go with him. Fortunately, I’ve gotten a better offer.”

“B-but that means—”

“I’m afraid it does.” Melody smiled shyly, hesitant.

“But you and I— _we_ …”

“Yes... I mean, if you want to, of course.” Her grip on his hands tightened. “I do have a request, though.”

“Anything.” His thumb stroked her palm, and she shivered.

“Can we—can we take it slow? Like, do we need to put a label on it just yet? You’re still my best friend and I—I don’t want to lose that. I haven’t…I’ve never…had a friend like you John…and if I lost you…I don’t…I don’t know what would happen.”

“Well, good thing you’ll never lose me, Melody Williams.”

Yet even as he squeezed her hand, the familiar fear set into her heart, deep, taunting.

_But you_ will _, Melody. Once he finds out who you really are. And what you’ve done._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really sure what you'll think of this chapter. But at least she's going with him, and they're together...sort of. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it. And oh, look at the time, Alex Kingston's on Arrow tonight, I'm excited:)


	6. Treasured

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get serious in this chapter...

“Wow, you’re lookin’ smug as ever. I take it your ‘date’ went well, then?” Clara smirked, hands on her hips.

“Hmmm.” John hummed, his cheeks bright and flushed.

“So, you’ve finally found yourself a girlfriend? I have to admit, I never thought I’d see the day.”

_“Clara!”_

“I’m kidding. Course I am. You’ve always been amazing, John. It just took an equally amazing woman to see it. ”

“You got that right.” He mused, not realizing he’d just spoken aloud.

His sister’s soft laughter broke his train of thought.

“Did I just—”

“Yeah, you did. I take you two are going to that party together, right?”

“Yes. But it’s—it’s not like you think, Clara, we’re not, I mean, Melody said we should take it slow, and —we’re not exactly dating—or-or, maybe we kind of are—I don’t know, it’s complicated, I think.” his hands gestured emphatically as if to explain.

“If you insist.” Clara giggled to herself, hand over her mouth, deeply enjoying her brother’s flustered reaction. She did always love to wind him up.

 

* * *

 

 

On the surface, life hadn’t changed much in a week; He and Melody still collaborated and worked and chatted and bickered just as they always had.

But then there were the moments in between, when she would hold his hand for longer than was absolutely necessary, when he would pull her into a tight embrace, savoring the rapid thump-thump of her heart against his, the gradual ebb and flow of her breath as she relaxed after a long day.

Moment by moment, her walls crumbled a little more, allowing a deeper, almost indefinable connection that somehow extended past the barriers of simple friendship, creating a complicated, elaborate tangle of chaos.

And yet, there were other times where she felt so distant, so far; she’d release that weary lapse of breath when she thought he wasn’t paying attention. Melody Williams; beautiful, energetic, imaginative, passionate, Melody Williams, sad and silent for reasons he wanted to understand but couldn’t.

Perhaps he never would.

 

* * *

 

Pouring over her notes, Melody leaned forward, not missing the perturbed look on John’s face. His constant fidgeting and hesitant steps toward her didn’t bode well for her concentration.

“Stop giving me that look, Sweetie.” She scolded before he could open his mouth.

“Wh-what look?”

“That thing you do where you look like a wounded puppy. The ‘Oh-no-Melody’s-been-awfully-quiet-lately-I-must-have-done-something-wrong’ look.”

“Well…” Shoulders slumping, John inched closer, wringing his hands.

“See. My point exactly.”

“Melody—”

The concern in his voice was both endearing and troubling.

“You worry too much.” she spoke simply, barely glancing in his direction.

“I just—I mean, sometimes—and today—we…” Oh, bless, he did that adorable thing where his bottom lip jutted out like a pouting little boy.

She could never resist that baby face.

“Yes, I know. I’ll pick you up at 6:30? Work for you?”

“Yes. I mean, fine. Brilliant!” he answered almost too quickly, his sudden relief unmistakable.

 

* * *

 

 

A few hours later, while John waited for Melody to return from the copy room, he prepared for his next lecture, mind whirring with important dates and facts and stories.

His foot tapped the bottom of his desk, his fingers running through his hair.

When he heard the familiar door creak, he stopped, his perplexed frown breaking into a soft smile.

“Hey, Melody, I was just thinking—”

But the heavy footsteps gave it away; the abrupt halt in the middle of the office. The lack of that sweet-smelling perfume.

“Hiya, John.” The man’s American accent confirmed John’s deepest fears.

“Jack. Hello…wha—what brings you here? Umm…M-Melody’s not here right now…she’s…”

“Actually I was hoping to talk to you.”

John gulped, thinking he’d misheard.

“Uh— _what? Me?”_

“Yeah. Melody seems awfully happy to be going to that party with you.”

“Oh, well…look, I’m sorry, Jack, if this is what you’re upset about—”

“No, no, it’s not that. I was wondering when you’d finally man up and ask her—”he chuckled, his light-hearted, American charm unnerving.

“You mean you’re not—”

“No. Of course not. But I’m afraid that’s why I’m here.” His tone grew serious, all the playfulness of the previous moment gone.

“What—what do you mean?”

“John, I know you fancy her and everything—can’t really blame you there—but don’t be fooled.” He warned.

“What are you talking about—I’m not—Melody’s my best friend—she—”

“But it’s more than that now, isn’t it? Which makes things more dangerous for you than they’ve ever been. If I were you, I wouldn’t get too close.”

“Hang on, a few days ago you were asking her out—and now you’re telling me—”

“I was trying to avoid this. For your sake. I asked her out because I wanted to find out as much as I could—to protect you. Because here’s the thing, John—you can’t trust her. You think you know her, but you don’t. You don’t understand who or what she is.”

The implications of his words slowly sunk in, rippling to the very core of John’s being.

“I think I know my best friend, thank you very much. And even if this were true in the slightest—which it isn’t— _why_ would you wait to tell me _now_?”

“I didn’t think it would get to this point, honestly. If I had, I would’ve told you a long time ago.” He paused, hesitant. “John, you can’t let yourself get this involved. Friendship was one thing—but this, this---it’s too risky.”

“No, it’s ridiculous, and I won’t have—”

“I know it sounds that way, but I swear, what I’m telling you is true. Melody Williams is _dangerous_.”

“Yes, so dangerous that she would drop out of university to help her newly blinded father, so dangerous that she would rescue a blind stranger from a busy street, risking her own life; yes, that seems very dangerous to me. Point is, I know my friend, Jack, and I’ll not listen to this rubbish attempt at—”

“Fine. You think you know her, do you? Then tell me what happened ten years ago.”

John froze, paralyzed, suddenly questioning the possible truthfulness to Jack’s speech.

“She was going through a rough time—her dad came home from the war, blind, it was very difficult…”

“And that’s all you know, is it?”

“Maybe—but, it doesn’t matter…”

“Oh, but don’t you get it? That’s a part of her past she’s kept hidden, even from you, her supposed ‘best friend.’ She doesn’t trust you, don’t you see? If you knew half of the awful things she did ten years ago—”

“M-Melody isn’t like that. And why is her past your business? How do _you_ know all this?”

“I watch people like her. People who pose a threat to the public. It’s my job. And Melody Williams—she’s a threat. But the worst part is—she doesn’t fully realize it herself. She only vaguely remembers what happened to her—enough to feel guilty, but nothing more. Those blackouts she gets—they’re a sign of repeated memory loss. She’s tried to go back to a normal life, but what she doesn’t understand is that once you get involved with the wrong people, you’re never truly free. ”

“So, you’re telling me you _used_ Melody, pretended to take an interest in her to get _information_? What the hell does that make you, Jack? A government spy? A conman? You’re telling me my best friend is dangerous, but there’s only one dangerous person around here, and it’s certainly not Melody. Now, do yourself a favor and. _Get. Out!”_ he growled, slamming his fist on the desk, the anger he buried down so deep and tried so hard to manage finally erupting.

“Fine. Fine! But if you get mixed up in this mess, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

 Jack’s voice trailed off, leaving John alone in the office, silently fuming, unable to shake the terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach.

 

* * *

 

 

“Sorry that took so long. I thought you could use another cuppa, so I here you go.” Her fingers brushed his as she placed the cup in his hand. “Was that Jack I just saw coming out of here? What did he want?”

John’s chest tightened just then, and he longed to tell her the truth, but instead he forced a grin, spewing a lie he knew would satisfy her.

“Oh, he just congratulated me for finally making a move, and wanted to make sure I knew he was perfectly alright with it, and there were no hard feelings between us.”

He could feel the blood rushing through his veins, the quickness of his heart _, lies, lies, lies_.

“See, he’s not all bad. And he’s obviously not the jealous type. You didn’t need to be so worried.”

“Yeah.” His hollow smile did little to mask the unsettling doubt creeping into his mind.

Sighing, he opened his lunch bag, removing its contents silently.

“Sweetie? You alright?” she sympathized, laying her hand over his.

“Fine.” He managed, slowly extracting his hand from hers.

 “I wasn’t gone that long, was I?”

Silence.

 “ _John?”_

* * *

 

“You’re awfully tense today. I’d have thought you would be happy, seeing as you’re going on a _date_.” Clara emphasized the last word, surprised to see no reaction from her brother. “There.” she tilted his bowtie, fixing it in the right position. “Now, stand back a second…let’s see. Oh, perfect. You look dashing, John. Melody’s gonna love it.”

“Must be really something if it’s getting you to say nice things about me.” He added in jest, his usual humor returning.

“Hey, I’m always nice to you!”

John chortled.

“Mostly. More often than not.  Alright, fine. But really, you’re my brother, I have to give you a hard time every once and a while. Now, you go and have a good time with Melody. And call me if there’s any trouble. Okay?”

“Okay.” It came out a bit weaker than he’d expected, but Clara didn’t have time to comment, having heard the knock at the door.

“That’d be her. _Have fun.”_

 

* * *

 

 

_Stop it, stop thinking about that! It’s rubbish. Everything he said. You know Melody. Even if she’s made some bad choices in her past, she’s changed. It’s not something to worry about. She saved your life, remember? Now, stop your worrying and give Melody the respect she deserves._

“Hey.” Turning the doorknob, John recognized the familiar, quiet breathing.

Clara’s whistle of approval earned her a mouthed ‘Shut up.’

“Ready?” Melody asked, cutting off the siblings’ exchange.

“Mmm Hmm.”

With that, she wove her fingers through his, ushering him out of his flat and towards her car.

“What was that all about?”

“Oh, you know, Clara being Clara.” He grunted, shaking his head.

“You’re lucky to have a sister like her.”

“I know. And I am. But she can be a bit…I don’t know… _irritating_ at times.”

“I understand. You’ve met my mother?”

“But Amelia’s brilliant!”

“Says the man who used to be afraid of her.” Melody giggled, swatting him on the shoulder.

“Hey—I—I got over that!”

“Only because Mum loves you.” She squeezed his hand.

“Well, yeah. I mean—shut up!” he blushed, suddenly flustered.

“Not a chance.”

 

* * *

 

 

“You can stop straightening your bowtie now; you look fine, John.” She glanced at him from the driver’s wheel.

 _“Fine?”_ he whined, pouting.

_“Adorkable.”_

“Yes, well, than—wait, that’s not even a word! I am not a dork, Melody Williams!”

“I mean that in the best way possible.” Parking the car, Melody laughed. “I’m kidding. You look _lovely.”_

“Is that a step up from ‘adorkable’?” his arms flapped about, and she pressed her cheek to his side.

“Yes, you. Now get out of the car or we’ll both look like idiots.”

 

* * *

 

 

Hand in hand, they entered the expansive hall filled with blaring music and excited voices.

Hearing a few snickers, John tightened his grip on Melody’s hand, suddenly anxious.

“Melody, why are they all staring at us?” he whispered, trying to be subtle.

“Who said they were staring at us?”

“I—I don’t know, it just feels like—”

“They’re just surprised, I suppose. Nothing serious.” She shrugged the matter off. “Why don’t we sit here?”

“Alright.” Settling in the seat, John relaxed.

“Now, I’ll be back in a moment, let me get the food.” Her hand slipped out of his, and he leant back, still battling the unwelcome thoughts from earlier, fighting the unfathomable notion that Jack’s warning might hold a grain of truth.

 

* * *

 

 

Sure enough, Melody arrived with the perfect plate. Fish fingers, a BLT sandwich, a side of custard, and a little pile of Jammie Dodgers from the dessert table.

“Just what the Doctor ordered.” He lauded, beaming at her.

“Yes, a disgusting concoction a sane human being would never dare consume.”

“What, so I’m insane, now?”

“Oh, there’s never been any doubt of that, Sweetie. Anyone willing to put up with me for this long must be a bit mad, yeah?” her forced laughter pierced his heart, ushering a wave of dread.

Melody’s remark cut deep; he sensed the unspoken hurt there, the pain. The inability to accept the idea that someone besides her own family might care about her.

_‘She doesn’t trust you, don’t you see? If you knew half of the awful things she did ten years ago—’_

Jack’s awful words came rushing back, like a tumultuous whirlwind, powerful, damaging.

 _“Melody—”_ his thumb traced circles on her palm, as he tried to communicate what he couldn’t say. “You are important, do you hear me? You’ve never been someone I just ‘put up with.’ I enjoy every moment— _every moment_ I spend with you. Surely you know that?” he admitted softly, hearing her sharp intake of breath.

“John…” she swallowed, pausing. “Why don’t—why don’t we finish up and then go for a dance. That is—if you promise you won’t trip over your own feet again.” Her joking comment lightened his heart a little.

“Don’t you worry, Miss Williams, I think you’ll find that despite my inherent clumsiness, I am an excellent dancer.”

 

* * *

 

Closing his eyes, John Smith savored the closeness of the moment, the wonderful sensation of Melody Williams in his arms.

His hand nestled in the small of her back, pressed against her warm, bare skin, where the fabric of her dress cut off, his other hand fingering the silky bow at her waist, while she wrapped her arms around his neck, breath hot against his ear.

“That’s a gorgeous dress.” He mumbled as their bodies moved in tune with the music, creating a glorious melody, heart-beat upon heart-beat.

“Thanks.” He felt her smile into his shoulder, her cheeks warm.

“You like this song, don’t you? Stevie Wonder.”

“He’s an old favorite of mine.”

“Me too.” John agreed, relishing the comfortable silence that followed.

Part of him wished they could just stay like this, in this calm, dreamlike state, simply enjoying each other’s very presence, her fingers caressing the little hairs at the base of his neck, her loose curls tickling his face. Yes, he relished this sweet bit of heaven, perfectly content, satisfied, if only for a few blissful minutes.

“John.” She murmured later, her voice gentle.

“What?”

“The music stopped five minutes ago.”

It took him a moment to break out of the trance, to understand, but when he did, his heart lurched, and he detached himself, staggering back, his balance lost before he could fully comprehend what was happening.

Crashing into the empty table, John felt the sharp jolt in his side as he knocked a chair over, his head hitting the tabletop.

“Owwwww…” His head spun, whirring.

 _“John!”_ Melody caught him, her arms around his upper body. A commotion stirred around them, the collateral mummer of confusion.

_“He’s blind.”_

_“Is he hurt?”_

_“Isn’t he that blind professor?”_

They tormented his mind, blaring, loud, hurtful, but her voice, the only one that mattered, stood out among them all.

“John, can you hear me? Sweetie—”

“M-Melody…”

 “Will you all stop gawking and get me some ice?” Melody yelled, authoritative and angry. “You’re going to be just fine, Sweetie.” She soothed. “They’re bringing you some ice, and then we’ll be at my parents’ house in no time.”

 

* * *

 

 

“How are you feeling, John?” Rory Williams asked, leaning towards him.

“I—I don’t know. My head hurts. I feel pretty dizzy.”

“I don’t think he has a concussion, but he hit his head pretty hard.” He stepped back, informing Melody and Amelia. “Just keep the ice on it, John. How’s your ankle?”

“Sprained. I don’t need a nurse to tell me that.”

“Okay, now just relax; you’ll be fine. Melody, look after him. Clara should be here soon. You called her, right?”

“Of course. Come here, John.” Steadying him with her arm, Melody led him to the sofa. “Hey.” She smoothed his fringe out of his eyes, clasping his hand. “How do you feel?”

“Like the biggest idiot in the history of ever.” He groaned, flustered. “Melody, I ruined your time at the party, I—”

“Enough about me.”

“But Melody—”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Of _course_ it matters.”

“What matters is that you’re alright.”

“You must think I’m the stupidest man on the planet.”

“No; the clumsiest, maybe. But you can’t help that, Sweetie.”

“It’s because I’m blind, isn’t it?” he realized, laughing sardonically.

“Don’t you dare—”

“But it’s true. Everybody else—”

“Forget everybody else, John. If they don’t have the decency to see you for who you really are, then what can you do? I don’t ever want you to beat yourself up over something you have no control over.” She choked, her voice thick with emotion.

“Hey.” He whispered, wrapping his arms around her as she cried softly. “Melody…” John’s hands swept her cheeks, wiping away her tears. “Thank you.” His voice waivered and he withdrew from the embrace, still holding her hand. “I suppose I’m a pretty rubbish date. I can see why you’re hesitant about me.”

“Shut up. You’re wonderful.” Her nose brushed his, and she tilted her head, kissing his cheek slowly, lingering there for a moment.

 _“John?”_ Clara questioned, frantic and breathing heavily. “John, I came as soon as I heard—”

“I’m fine, Clara.” He promised, letting her pull him into hug. “Seriously, I’m alright.”

“What happened?”

“I—ah—well, Melody and I were dancing, and um…she told me the music had stopped five minutes ago and I tripped and crashed into a table.”

“Of course you did.” She sighed, rolling her eyes.

“See? _Fine.”_

“Okay.” Clara calmed down, perking up. “Must’ve been some pretty intense dancing.”

“Oi! One minute into the conversation and you’re already making cracks at me.”

“Well, it was pretty intense, Sweetie.” Melody leant against him, grinning.

“That’s not helping.”

“But it’s true.”

_“Yeah.”_

And in that moment, with his best friend tucked into his side, her hand woven through his, he felt at home, content, loved, treasured, suddenly surer than ever that nothing Melody Williams had done in her past would ever change that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! I tried to end on a happier note, despite the darker undertones earlier on. 
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day!


	7. Music

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this may be the longest chapter I've written so far...don't know how that happened. Sorry it's been a little longer this time. I had a choir conference last weekend and I spent the previous week preparing for that. Enjoy the chapter!

Monday morning brought a typhoon of questions as John’s coworkers (some of whom he’d never even spoken to) suddenly took a very peculiar “interest” in his well-being. More like an interest in the juicy gossip that followed it.

_“Look, there he is. Back already?”_

_“Feeling better, John?”_

_“Was that dance a little too much for him?”_

Their voices whirred in his ears, pitying, threatening; he zipped his eyes shut, wishing they would stop.

A comforting hand wrapped around his shoulders as Melody Williams guided him out of the busy hallway and into the familiar and quiet confines of the office, ignoring the elevated chatter sparked by her intervention.

“Made you some tea, Sweetie. Your favorite.” Her voice brightened, and he managed a small smile, folding his fingers around the cup.

“Thank you.” John sipped the steaming liquid, his head down.

“John…”

“What?” he snapped, pent up anger and embarrassment suddenly erupting like a maelstrom.

Her breath hitched sharply, and she flinched, startled.

“Sorry. Melody, I’m—I didn’t mean—”hands shaking, John mumbled an apology, guilt seeping into his heart.

He could hear Melody’s heavy sigh as she stepped closer to him.

“Wh-whatever they were saying about you…just don’t listen to it. Please. Don’t think that—” the words caught in the back of her throat, and she stopped, unable to continue.

“I’ve gotten used to what people say by now.” John admitted quietly.

“But that doesn’t make it any easier.” Her voice filled with emotion as her hand cupped his cheek.

“No. You’re right. It doesn’t.” A pause. “But d’ya know what does?”  He whispered, his hand meeting hers.

“What?”

“You.”

* * *

 

After his morning lectures, John stumbled into the office, Melody following silently. Her soft breathing and familiar footsteps trailed behind him.

“Melody?”

The lack of response put him slightly on edge.

“You okay?”

Snapping out of whatever fantasy she’d been absorbed in, she answered.

“Yes, yes, of course. Sorry.”

“Umm…I was going to ask…what you thought of my last lecture, if I covered everything the way we planned.”

John’s question permeated the air, ushering a hushed stillness.

“I take it I didn’t do so well?”

“No, no, Sweetie. You were a _maz_ ing— _”_ Melody started, slightly flustered. “I mean…”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Her voice softened, and she swallowed hard.

“Well…you know what would be even more amazing?”

“What? If you suddenly came to your senses and stopped trying to find an excuse to wear a fez during the lecture? Just because you were lecturing on 17th century Morocco doesn’t give you a decent excuse to wear that hideous… _thing_. If I had a gun I’d shoot it off your head in a heartbeat.”

“Oi! That is not what I meant! And for the record, fezzes are coo—”

“Hideous—”

“ _Cool!”_ he insisted, arms crossing his chest, his bottom lip jutting out like a child’s.

“Sure, Sweetie. And you totally don’t look like a four-year-old right now.”

_“Melody!”_

“You were saying?” her tone held a hint of playfulness.

“I…well…before I was so _rudely_ insulted…I was going to suggest that you join me this afternoon. What I mean to say… is that we could lecture _together_ …”

“But John, I’m not prepared, you didn’t give me any notice; I can’t just—”

“Course you can! You’re probably more prepared than I am, and besides, you’ll be wonderful. As always.” The warmth in John’s smile slowly melted her resistance, his youthful exuberance impossible to refuse.

“Alright. But on one condition.”

He gulped, mind spinning with possibilities.

“You promise to never wear that hideous contraption ever again…”

“ _Melody,_ that’s not fair!”

“Look, Sweetie, it’s for your own good. The fact that the students can take you seriously at all is a miracle, but we know that it would never happen if you wore that abominable thing all the time. It’s me or the fez. Shouldn’t be a difficult decision, though apparently for you, it is.”

Groaning, the man in the bowtie grudgingly submitted with the grace of a stubborn puppy.

_“Fine.”_

* * *

 

With Melody Williams at his side, speaking with mirth and passion for the subject, her shoulder brushing his every now and then, her soft giggle gracing his ears when he’d crack a joke just for her, John Smith found that sacrificing the fez couldn’t have been a better decision (though he’d never admit it to Melody, for the sake of his pride). With Melody, his colleagues’ mockery didn’t matter; he could simply enjoy sharing his love of teaching and history with another human being.

He’d even gotten so absorbed in her portion of the lecture that he forgot to do his part, too intrigued by the melodious quality of Melody’s voice.

 _“John?”_ She’d asked somewhat worriedly, drawing him back to reality.

Cheeks flushed, John managed to catch himself, his hands gesturing emphatically and his face breaking into a grin,

(But for _who?_ )

* * *

 

“Well, that was certainly interesting,” Melody laughed, nudging John’s side.

“I told you! Didn’t I tell you, Melody? You’re wonderful.”

The brightness faded from her face immediately, the familiar pang of guilt rising in her chest.

_He would never say that if he knew._

But she forced the thought away, shrugging it off.

“I don’t know. I’m really not…you’re much better at teaching than I am. You have loads more experience and—”

“So? You’re a natural, Melody. And I think you’re rather brilliant,” John whispered, giving her hand a quick squeeze. “We should definitely do this more often.”

“Maybe.” Her tongue rested on the last syllable. “Though you seemed pretty distracted at times, Sweetie.”

“I…I wasn’t distracted…”

“No, you were just staring dreamily in my direction when you were supposed to be talking.”

“I…that was one time!” he blurted out before placing a hand over his mouth.

“So you admit it!”

“Yes—no! I mean…Melody, I’m just… I’m not used to hearing your professor voice.”

 _Oh, that man. That ridiculous, wonderful, impossible,_ amazing _man._

“Only _you_ would say that.” She chuckled, amused, hand pressing against his red cheek. “And for the record, I’m rather fond of your ‘professor voice’ too.”

* * *

 

“Why the face?” Melody asked later that week, the sight of John’s slumped form unsettling.

“Face? What face?”

“That face where you look like a kicked puppy. Come to think of it, you do that quite often. I’m sure I’ve mentioned it before.”

Releasing an exasperated breath, John pressed his fingers to his forehead.

“I just…well, Clara’s working late tonight, and you’re about to leave to pick up your brother, so I’m going to be stuck here by myself for a while.”

The curly haired woman rolled her eyes.

“Seriously, Sweetie? All you had to do was tell me.”

“I…I didn’t want to be a bother,” his voice sounded mousy, pitiful.

“Come on.” Grabbing him by the hand, Melody tugged him out of his desk chair, removing his blazer from the coat rack and handing it to him. “I hope you don’t mind picking up Anthony.”

* * *

 “Melody!!!” the shrill cry of joy came unmistakably from Anthony Williams, who proceeded to hug his sister before peering at the young man beside her. “Mr. John! You brought Mr. John!” Anthony cheered, detaching himself from Melody and nearly pouncing into John’s arms.

“Hey, buddy! How are you? Did you have fun at school? Melody said I could tag along with you guys if that’s okay.”

“Yeah. That’s great. Melody keeps saying she’ll bring you sometime. But she never does.”

“Well, she brought me today, buddy.” He laughed, smiling down at the boy. “Gotta give her some credit.”

“Okay. Thanks, Melody.” Anthony’s little lips kissed Melody’s cheek.

“I thought you didn’t like kissing?” John scoffed, brows slanted, as if for effect.

“This kind of kissing is okay. Mummy and Daddy kiss me like this. And so does Melody sometimes. But grown up kissing is gross. Bleh.” His tongue hung out of his mouth in disgust. “But you don’t think so, do you, Mr. John? Cause you want to kiss my big sister.”

 A squeak escaped John’s throat.

 _“Anthony!”_ Melody scolded, blushing.

 “But he does, Melody! He always has that face Daddy has when he wants Mummy to kiss him, that’s how I know.”

“That’s enough, Anthony.” Her own heart pounded in her ears, the blood rushing to her face as she stole a glance at John, who seemed in worse condition.

“And you’re making the Mummy-face, Melody.”

“Anthony, I said that’s enough. Now stop it or I’ll tell John who you want to kiss.” She threatened, voice filled with seriousness.

“Oooh, did you meet a girl, Anthony? Good on you, mate.”

“It’s _Clara_.”

“I hope you don’t mind, Mr. John. Because your sister’s just so pretty and nice and I think she might be an angel and—”

“I’m sure she would be very touched by that.” John nodded, patting Anthony’s shoulder.

“Are Mr. John and Miss Clara coming to my birthday party, Melody?”

“I don’t know, honey. Have you asked?”

“Mr. John, will you and Clara come to my birthday on March25th in two weeks?”

“We’d love to come, Anthony. I’ll double check with my sister. And actually, I just talked to her on the way over, and she told me to say hi to you.”

“She did?” he gushed, awestruck.

“Yes, and you might see her later when she comes to pick John up. Now, Anthony, time to go to the playground for a few minutes.”

“Will you watch me, Melody?”

“Yes, of course. Now go and get some of that energy out, honey.”

* * *

 

 "Sorry about that.” Melody whispered as she and John settled on a small bench across from the park.

“He’s a sweet kid, your brother.”

“I know. He really is. But he never knows when to stop talking. Kind of like someone else I know.”

“Really, _who?_ ”

Laughing, Melody kissed his cheek.

“ _You_ , Sweetie.”

“Wh—Oh, _Melody!_ I don’t—I don’t talk that much, I mean, I am prone to ramble at times, but I really try not to—”

“Exactly.” Her curls tickled his skin and he blushed, scratching the place where she’d kissed him.

“I’m not that bad, am I?”

“Actually, you’re quite cute when you ramble.” She leant against his shoulder, grinning.

“Is that a compliment, Miss Williams?”

“I’ll leave that one to you, Sweetie.” Her fingers tightened around his, and she sighed contentedly, lost in the moment.

“What’s Anthony doing?”

“Um…he’s going down the slide right now.”

“I loved doing that as a kid.”

“Really? I’m surprised you didn’t trip on the way up.”

_“Hey!”_

“Kidding, Sweetie.”

* * *

 

“You’re lookin’ awfully pleased with yourself.” Clara pointed out hours later.

“Well…”

“Kissed her yet?”

“Wh-no, _no!_ Of—of course not! You’re as bad as Anthony!” his hands flew in front of his face.

“It’s just good to see you happy, John.” He sensed the edginess to her voice. “Anthony was being very sweet.”

“Poor kid. He’s got a huge crush on you. I don’t really have the heart to break it to him.”

“Oh, don’t worry; he’ll grow out of it eventually. I think it’s kinda cute, though.”

“Hmmm.” John’s head bobbed up and down. “How was work?”

“Fine. I’m kinda ready to start my new job, though.”

“Only another two weeks.” John reminded reassuringly. “I’m excited for you.”

* * *

 

 Perched on the piano bench with his golden retriever huddled at his legs, John pressed his long fingers over the keys, their movement creating a cluster of chords.

“What do you think, Idris, Old Girl? Too much dissonance?”

Clara’s footsteps echoed from behind, causing John to turn his head.

“Composing again?”

“Yeah. Sort of. Just tinkering.”

“Sounds great as usual, John. What’re you gonna call it?”

“I…well, I don’t know yet; I’m sort of still working on it.” He shrugged.

“I see. John…does Melody know that you play the piano?” it was a gentle question, not forced.

“N-no. I don’t—I doubt she would think me any good.”

“Sure she would! I think it’s amazing that you can play as well as you do.”

“I suppose it’s because of my acute hearing.”

“It’s more than that.” Clara hugged him from the side, looping her arm around his middle. “I remember when I was a little girl you used to play for me when I couldn’t sleep. I thought you were the coolest big brother ever. And you know what? _You still are._ ” Her whisper cut deep into his hearts, bringing back foggy memories of a little girl with brown hair and wide eyes, his sister, his Clara. He’d loved her then, and he loved her still, even though he hadn’t seen that precious face in over ten years. “Goodnight, John.”

“Goodnight, Clara.”

* * *

 

 _“Melody…”_ he started tentatively, the next week, wringing his hands. “I was wondering…would you…”

“John, I don’t see what the problem is. We’ve already gone out a few times, why is it difficult to ask again?”

“I just…I don’t know…maybe you won’t…”

“Now who’s being ridiculous?” her fingertips caressed his palm, kind, soothing.

“I…well…I’m quite fond of music…and Clara…she got me two tickets to see the London Symphony Orchestra on Friday night, and I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go? If—if you like that kind of music that is—because--if—if you don’t, that’s okay. We could just go somewhere else instead. I don’t know…”

“I’d love to go, Sweetie.”

“ _You would?!_ I mean, you would. Okay. Brilliant! We could go out to eat beforehand, cause the concert’s sort of late, and then—”

“Should I drive?”

“Clara could—”

“No, she runs around enough as it is, I’ll do it. What time do you think?”

“How about six-ish? If—if that works—”

“Sweetie, that’s fine.”

“Okay. Good.”

* * *

 

“Do you think Melody will like it?”

“Yeah, the white carnation is a nice touch.” Clara nodded at the small flower pinned near John’s jacket pocket.

“What if—”

“Stop your worrying. How many times have we been over this? Melody wouldn’t—”

“That’d be her.” His hand sifted through his hair and he straightened his bowtie for about the hundredth time.

“Oh, John, will you ever learn?”

* * *

 

John and Melody strolled to the car, arms linked.

“So…you do have the tickets, right?”

“’Course I do.” Like a magician performing a slight of hand, John whipped two tiny slips of paper out of his jacket pocket.

“Good. Erm…and dinner?”

“Oh, well, wherever you want to go is fine by me.” he entered the passenger’s seat behind her, smiling.

“I…I don’t know. I don’t really have a preference.”

“We could go to that Italian place again. I promise I won’t knock over a table.”

“ _I_ think you just want to go there because the waiter thought we were married last time.” Her remark earned a rather high-pitched cough from John.

“I…that is not--they have good food, Melody! And I never said we had to—”he blubbered, face red.

“Oh, hush, you. We’ll go to Gianelli’s, alright?”

* * *

 

Sure enough, the waiter mistook them as husband and wife again, but neither John nor Melody bothered to correct him, too engaged in conversation.

“No, Melody, it—it wasn’t like that!” John yelped, hands flying.

“Oh, it totally was. I remember perfectly.”

_“Melody—”_

“Don’t “ _Melody”_ me, Sweetie. You know, for someone who had a 150 IQ at age 10, you are remarkably thick sometimes.” She bit back a grin.

“For your information, _Miss Williams_ , I am—” Stopping suddenly, John felt the full effect of her words.

“You’re _what_?” she shot back, leaning in.

“N-nothing. Never mind. It’s not important.” His smile faltered, and he lowered his head.

“Sweetie?” her voice waivered. “I—I’m sorry for calling you thick—I didn’t really mean—”Melody wove her fingers through his, apologetic.

“I know. That’s not what’s bothering me.”

“Then what—”

“Melody, you said I had a 150 IQ at age 10.”

“Yeah, so? You’re really smart; I’ve always know that, I don’t see what—”

“No, you said I had a 150 IQ at age 10. How did you know that?” he asked very slowly, emphasizing each word.

“I…well, you told me at some point, obviously.”

“ _Melody_ , I don’t remember ever telling you that.” His voice was calm, cautious.

“Well, you must have. I bet you just forgot. Or maybe Clara told me. How else would I know?” He could tell by her tone she wasn’t lying; she was genuinely confused, and that realization troubled him even more.

“Yeah, of course. Must be it.” There it was again, that forced smile.

_But Clara doesn’t know that either._

And the familiar fear from a few weeks ago returned, seeping deep into his heart. But he shook it off, vainly telling himself that maybe he had told her, unwilling to face the terrifying reality of what it would mean if he hadn’t.

* * *

 

After dinner, they arrived at the concert hall, hand in hand.

“I forgot to mention earlier… You smell nice.” John whispered quietly as she led him down the aisle towards their seats.

“Thanks.” She mumbled, blushing.

“New perfume?”

“Yeah. It’s called petrichor.”

“Hmmm. Petrichor. The smell of dust after rain.” John hummed to himself, voice whimsical.

“Something like that.” Her breath stilled, and she nodded, pulling John down into the seat beside her.

“You’re wearing your hair up.” He surmised, grinning.

“How did you—”

“It sounds different.”

“It _sounds_ different?”

“Yes. Your hair is very thick and heavy; when it’s down I can hear it bouncing atop your shoulders when you walk.”

“Oh.”

“I like it.” His finger reached up to tuck a loose curl behind her ear.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She pursed her lips. “I like the suit.”

“Really? You don’t think it’s too much?”

“No. You…you look… _dashing_ , John.” Melody’s admission touched him more than she knew.

“I think that may be the best compliment you’ve ever given me, Melody Williams. Thank you.”

* * *

 

When the concert began, John relaxed, breathing deeply, savoring the gloriously full sound of the instruments, their unique timbres creating a beautiful conglomeration of rhythm and melody and harmony.

Holding Melody’s hand, he could feel the pattern of her own heartbeat, the soft sensation of her pulse mingling with the music of the orchestra, one and the same.

“What do you think?” he asked during intermission.

“They’re amazing.”

“Just wait. You haven’t even heard the best part yet. They always save their best pieces for the end.”

* * *

 

Melody listened to the orchestra, but soon became distracted by the man beside her. The serenity on his face as he closed his eyes, let go of her hand and wrapped his arm firmly around her shoulders, pulling her near him. She wasn’t even sure he’d done it consciously; he didn’t turn, didn’t falter, didn’t miss a single beat of the music. Yet she watched that glow of pure joy, shining bright as the fluorescent lights from the stage reflected on his face, illuminating the soft smile tugging at his lips. In that moment, tucked under his arm, Melody realized that he’d never looked more beautiful.

But with that realization came the awful ache of fear and guilt deep in her gut; because she didn’t deserve this, she didn’t deserve him. John Smith, who always treated her with care and kindness, John Smith, who always put her feelings above his own, John Smith, who always looked at her with warmth and tenderness, even though he’d never physically _seen_ her.

These thoughts, combined with the intensity of the music left an unexpected heaviness in her chest.

Melody didn’t know she was crying until John’s contented smile became a worried frown, and his hand cupped her cheek, his fingers sweeping away the tears she didn’t know had fallen.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” his grey, sightless eyes possessed such love, and her heart wrenched; she didn’t answer, burying her face in the curve of his neck as the music swelled around them.

* * *

 

“Melody…”

“I’m fine, Sweetie. I guess the music just sort of got to me. I don’t know.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“No, John, I loved it.” Her hand massaged his arm, as if to reiterate.

“I’m glad.”

* * *

 

Pellets of water poured from the sky, tricking down the windows of the car.

“Oh gosh, it’s pouring out there. It was only drizzling ten minutes ago.” Melody groaned, gripping the driver’s wheel. “I didn’t think to bring an umbrella.”

“Well, if—if you don’t want to get wet—which—which would be completely understandable, I could just try going by myself or call Clara—”

“Don’t be ridiculous! It’s 11 at night, you’re not waking your sister at this hour, and you’re certainly not going by yourself. Come on.”

She helped him out of the vehicle, and John quickly looped his arm around her waist. Together they ran, stumbling up the steps, but managing to get inside the complex, out of breath, dripping wet but laughing happily.

“We made it.” Melody huffed, shivering.

“But you’re soaked! Are you going to be alright? Melody—” his arms flailed amid the air, and she caught his hand.

“Sweetie, it’s alright! You’re soaked too, love.”

“Yes, but that’s okay—I just—”

“I’m fine, John. Now quiet down before we wake up everyone on your floor.”

* * *

 

They reached John’s flat in a matter of minutes, still drenched and breathing hard.

“And here we are.” Melody beamed, halting.

“Right.” His left hand rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I—ah—I actually—um—I have something for you—I—I forgot to bring it earlier, and seeing as we’re soaked, that was probably a good thing. _Anyway_ , let me—let me get it—and I’ll be out in a sec.”

Tapping her foot lightly, the curly haired woman waited for John, leaning against the wall.

To her surprise, he returned fairly quickly without tripping over anything, clutching something behind his back.

“Here.”A bouquet of bright white carnations landed in her hands. “I –Clara helped me pick them out this time—so—I know they aren’t wilted or anything.”

“They’re lovely, Sweetie. Thank you.” Something about the way his eyes sparkled moved her, and she stumbled backwards, but John’s arms caught her in seconds.

“ _Woah._ You okay?”

“Yeah. Sorry, it must be the heels.” Glancing at the floor, she saw that the bouquet remained undamaged.

“Hmmm.”

“I…I had a great night, Sweetie. Thank you.”

“Even though we’re soaked?”

“Just a minor consolation.” Melody chuckled nervously, suddenly light-headed at the sight of John’s face.

“Well,” he started, drawing back when he knew she’d regained her balance. “It’s late.”

“Yes.”

“You—you should probably go—I don’t want to hold you up.”

“You’re—you’re not holding me up.” Her heart pounded loudly, _Thump-thump thump-thump thump-thump._

“I mean, I would help you get back home if I could but—well, obviously I can’t. And well…the sooner you get home the better because—because then you won’t have to worry about the rain anymore. And you can fix your hair and make sure your dress isn’t ruined—not that—not that there’s anything wrong with your hair because it—it’s still pretty even when it’s wet—and I’m sure you still look great in that dress even when it’s soaked because—because you’re always beautiful and—”

Melody’s hand brushed his cheek before he could finish, and he could tell she must have been shaking her head.

“Did—did I leave something out? Have I forgotten something?”

“Oh— _Shut up_.” Her hands cupped his cheeks and her lips met his, sending his arms into a frenzy as his mouth responded in kind, dancing over hers, echoing a longing he’d held inside for so long before he consciously realized what was happening. She deepened the kiss, hands moving to his waist, pulling him close before she withdrew.

“Wh-what?” Melody stuttered, thrown off by his confusion.

“I just—wasn’t—wasn’t expecting—”

“Sorry.” Her cheeks burned, and she crouched down to retrieve the bouquet, her fingers trembling.

“No, no. It was nice, it was good—”

“Um…I—I’d better go. G-goodnight, Sweetie.”

“G-goodnight, Melody.” He whispered as the click-clack of her heels faded, his hand lingering where her lips had been moments before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So they finally kissed! But don't worry...things will start to get even more interesting in the next chapter. And when I say interesting; well, you'll find out:)


	8. Trembling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess you could say this chapter is told primarily from Melody's POV? And the tone changes dramatically at the end...but you'll have to wait and see...

Tip-toeing up the stairs, Melody Williams carefully cracked the door open, entering the house.

The blood pounded in her ears, _thump-thump thump-thump thump-thump,_ as her palms sweated—a sign of the ongoing battle between her mind and heart.

Before she could totally process what had just happened, she stumbled, collapsing to the floor, a wave of dizziness sweping over her.

Apparently her fall had been loud enough to be heard because she found herself in her mother’s shaky arms.

“Melody. Are you okay? Can you hear me?” Amelia whispered, voice quivering. _“Rory?”_

 “I think she’s alright. Melody, how are you feeling?”

“I—I don’t know. Sorry. I just felt really dizzy for a second and then—I don’t know; I just fell—I didn’t mean to wake you. I’m sorry.”

_“Melody—”_

“I’m—I’m fine, Mum. Just a bit lightheaded. It’ll pass.” She sighed, rubbing her forehead.

“Amelia, get her on the sofa.” Rory’s tone held a degree of authority. “Melody, do you feel like you’re going to blackout?”

“No—no, I think, I think it’s getting better.”

“Right, just—just sit down; your mother will help you.”

Closing her eyes, Melody nodded, her arms trembling as Amelia helped her to the sofa.

“Hey, hey.” Amelia’s fingers brushed Melody’s curls out of her face. “Would you like a glass of water?”

Before she could even respond, Rory placed the cup in her hand.

“Drink this. It should help.” He whispered, reassuring.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“That’s my girl.” His finger brushed her cheek, and she felt like his little girl again, managing a small smile, if only for a moment. “Feeling a bit better now?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, well, let me know if you need me—” he winked, sensing that whatever had brought this on was something she’d rather discuss with her mother.

“Dad—”

“Yes, darling?”

“I love you.”

* * *

 

“So, did something bring this on? Or was it just—” Amelia started, hand smoothing circles on her daughter’s back.

“I…I don’t know. It’s nothing. Really.” She turned away, face flushed.

“Didn’t seem like nothing. And clearly your dad thinks we have things to discuss.” Her mother raised a brow. “Melody, if you think you’re going to have a blackout, please tell me now. I wouldn’t want you to—”

“It’s got nothing to do with that, Mum. I told you, I’m fine—”

“So you admit there’s an ‘it’!”

“No—no, I just—never mind.” Melody’s shoulders sagged, her hand trembling as she stood up, leaning on the sofa for support. “Well, I appreciate the help, but I’m tired, Mum, it’s been a long day and I—”

Amelia heard the anguish in her daughter’s voice, didn’t miss the tears in her daughter’s eyes.

“Melody—” her arm caught Melody’s shoulder before she could move any further. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

“Mum, it’s really stupid and pointless. It doesn’t matter—”

 “But matters to you.” Amelia’s voice fell to a whisper as her hazel eyes met her daughter’s. She held Melody’s gaze for moment, silent, understanding. “Hey. Come on.” Her hand patted the empty spot on the sofa. “I don’t like to see my Melody so upset.”

“Mum, I’m not a kid anymore— _really_ , you shouldn’t—”

“But you’re still my daughter. And you’re still hurting.” Melody lowered her head, body shaking as her mother wrapped an arm around her. “Everyone needs their ol’ Mum sometimes.”

Amelia hugged Melody close, sensing her resistance crumbling.

“Honey, what brought this on? What did that clumsy idiot do this time?”

A blush crept into Melody’s cheeks at the mention of John Smith.

“Nothing.” She admitted too quickly.

_“Melody—”_

A pause.

“Okay, _everything_.” Her heart thudded loudly; _thump-thump, thump-thump_ , and she sank back against the cushion, eyes closed.

“Let me guess. He tripped over his own shoelaces as you were walking into the theater and babbled apologies so incessantly that they kicked you both out, so you got soaked by the rain.”

“No.” Melody managed to laugh despite herself.

“ _See_ , got ya to smile!”

_“Mum!”_

“Sorry.” Amelia noted her daughter’s irritated features. “But seriously, Melody, he must have done something otherwise you wouldn’t be this upset so—

Melody’s mind raced back to John’s flat, and a sharp pang of guilt sunk deep into her chest.

“Okay. So your date didn’t go well?”

“No…it…it was…” she paused, blushing. “ _…wonderful_.” But the flicker of light in her eyes quickly faded.

“ _I_ see.” Amelia Williams gave her daughter a knowing look, one filled with sympathy and perhaps a bit of amusement. “So…if your date went so well, what happened?”

“Mum, it’s not imp—”

“Melody—”

“It doesn’t matter—”

_“Melody—”_

“I don’t—”

“ _Melody Williams_ —”

 _“Ikissedhim!”_ she blurted out suddenly, hand covering her mouth before she could say anymore.

The moment of silence that followed sent a wave of tension between them.

“Oh, honey…” Amelia’s tone was gentle, motherly. “Why is that a bad thing?”

“Because—I shouldn’t—I shouldn’t have done it. I promised myself I wouldn’t—”

“Why?”

“Mother, you _know_ why.” The bitterness in Melody’s voice went beyond her years. “Mum, I can’t—I can’t do that to him. If he knew, he would never—would never speak to me again.” She hung her head, resolute.

“And I don’t believe that.” Amelia whispered, confident and unshaken. “Melody, I _know_ John. And I know how he feels about you. You’re his best friend. And now you’re something more. Do you honestly think that he would just—just _abandon_ you? Because of something in your past that you had no control over? Are you really going to give up on him so easily?”

“I…I don’t know…it’s not that simple, Mum.” Her hands flew up, and she groaned, exasperated.

“Love never is.”

Melody’s heart stopped at her mother’s response, the reality of those soft-spoken words sinking in. Heat poured into her cheeks, and she looked down, not meeting Amelia’s gaze.

“I know it’s scary, Melody. But we’ve discussed this before. And I promise…it’s worth it. _He’s_ worth it. God, I’ve seen you happier in the last year than the past ten years combined. Whatever you and John have—it’s clearly something very special. And it would be just… _daft_ …to give that up because of fear.”

“But what if he doesn’t—”

“It’s a risk you have to take. You can’t keep going on like this. Your past—it’s eating you alive, Melody. And as difficult as it sounds, I think you just need to tell him. He’ll understand.” She held her daughter’s hand, reassured her.

“No, he won’t; how could he?” her voice was high-pitched, broken.

“Because he loves you, Melody.”

* * *

 

Crouched over the piano, John slid his fingers over the keys, leaning in as the music pulsed through his body, the rhythm of the notes an echo of his heartbeat.

He kept playing, on and on and on, trying to drown out the thump-thump of his heart, to clear his mind.

After an hour or so, his fingers began to ache, but he didn’t stop until he heard the knock at the door.

Confused, he managed to stumble over there without tripping over something, and unsurprisingly, he was met by his very-not-happy sister.

“John!” Clara rasped, clearly still half-asleep. “It’s past midnight, and I’m trying to sleep, would you mind not playing for hours and hours and maybe think about sleeping yourself?”

“I—s-sorry, Clara. I didn’t—sorry.” Scratching his cheek, John muttered apologies.

“It’s okay. I’m not really cross—I just wouldn’t want you to wake up the whole floor, you know.”

“Quite right. I’ll—I’ll just be off to bed now. And you’ll be able to sleep, and anyway—”

Clara’s soft laugh didn’t escape his notice, and his head bolted up.

“What?”

“Must have been a fun night.” She giggled, hand touching his cheek, inspecting it.

“What? _Clara?”_

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen your face that red. And trust me, _that’s_ saying something. Is that lipstick I see? No wonder you can’t sleep.”

His fingers drifted to his lips, and he flushed an even deeper crimson.

“Good on you, John. I’m sure we’ll have an interesting discussion in the morning. But I’m exhausted. G’night.” Clara yawned, patting his shoulder and heading back to her flat as the door closed softly behind her.

* * *

 

That night, curled under his covers, John shifted back and forth, tossing and turning, uncomfortable.

He’d tried to calm down, to relax, but his mind and heart refused, still active and pulsating.

Hyperactivity had always been an issue for him, but tonight his brain was a livewire.

All his thoughts hinged on Melody—the strange, yet wonderful sensation of her lips on his, their awkward exchange afterwards, Melody’s quickness to leave. He couldn’t quite understand it; she’d initiated the kiss in the first place, but left him feeling a bit flummoxed by the whole ordeal.

No matter how close they got, something held her back, making her hesitate and doubt and hide. Whatever this prison of her past was, she carried it with her constantly, the strain and the guilt lingering beneath the surface.

And he hadn’t forgotten about that comment at dinner about his IQ. How had she known? But it was the fear and confusion in her voice that hurt the most, it burned in his lungs, and he wished—oh, he wished he could take this burden from her.

If only she would let him in. Let him see that vulnerable side she kept so tightly hidden, locked away.

A jolt of pain surged in his chest, and he shuddered, painfully aware of the darkness surrounding him. And suddenly he felt terribly alone, trapped in the stillness of the room, helpless, heart heavy for the woman he loved.

* * *

 

“John, just call her again, alright? She’s probably busy; it’s a Saturday, for crying out loud.” Clara rolled her eyes, arms crossed.

“But Clara—what if—what if—”

“Oi, just do as I say. Stop your worrying, it really grates on me after a while. And it’s completely unnecessary.”

“But she—she _kissed_ me the other night—I don’t—I don’t know if—I might—”

“Well, if she’s not there on time Monday morning, you’re gonna be in a panic, so I suggest you muster up your ‘manly’ courage and call her!”

“I—fine. _Fine_. But if everything backfires, it’s _your_ fault.” He wiggled his finger, trying to sound stern, but failing miserably and eliciting a laugh from his sister.

_“Clara!”_

“ _So_ rry.”

* * *

 

Sprawled on the floor with Anthony, and entranced in a game of Scrabble, Melody laid back, tired. Much as she loved her little brother, his incessant talking wore her out. Not to mention her mind was very much somewhere else.

“Melody?”

“Yes, honey?”

“Do you—do you like playing with me?”

“’Course I do, honey.” She planted a light kiss to his forehead. “Why would you say a silly thing like that? You know I do.”

“But Melody—you’re not really paying attention. And you seem kinda sad.”

“Well, I’m fine, Anthony. Just a bit tired.” Melody hoped that would satisfy him; wishful thinking indeed.

Anthony’s mouth opened and closed, but he didn’t speak, distracted by the sudden ringing in Melody’s pocket.

“Aren’t you going to get that?” he asked when she ignored the sound.

“Honey, we’re playing a game, it would be rather rude of me to—”

“But Melody, that song—it only comes on when Mr. John calls you. You have to answer it, or he’ll get sad.”

“ _Anthony_ —” her tongue hung on the last syllable, and his face grew perplexed. “ _Fine_ , I’ll answer it. No pouting, though.”

Her fingers trembled as she hit the tiny green button.

“Hello?”

_“Um…hi, Melody. It’s John.”_

“Yes, I gathered.”

_“Right. Of course. Sorry. Caller ID and all. Yes.”_

“Sweetie—” she cut off his rambling, not missing the nervousness in his voice.

_“Sorry again. To the point—I—ah—Clara starts her new job tomorrow, and I—ah—I just wanted to remind you that you should get to work about 15 minutes earlier—I mean, you don’t have to, of course, but it would be nice—I mean, if it’s no trouble—”_

“I’ll be there, okay?”

_“Brilliant! I mean, good. Alright. I tried to get in touch with you earlier, but—”_

“Yeah, sorry. I’ve been watching Anthony all day. Bit busy, you know.”

_“Of course. Yes. Makes sense. Tell him I’m looking forward to going to his party next week.”_

“I will.” She nodded, glancing over at her brother, suddenly aware of her shaky breathing.

_“And Melody?”_

“Yes, Sweetie?”

_“I…I…I’m sorry…if I…if I upset you last night, really—”_

Her breath caught at his words, and she took a moment to answer.

“Sweetie, it—it was wonderful. I’m sorry for running off; I just—I don’t know…um…I’ll see you on Monday.”

_“Yeah. Right. Okay.”_

“Goodbye, Sweetie.”

_“Bye, Melody.”_

She hung up quickly, fearing the call would continue indefinitely if she hadn’t, given John’s proclivity to rambling.

“ _Melody_ , your face is really red.” The little boy’s observation ushered her back into reality.

“No, it’s _not._ Don’t be ridiculous, Anthony.”

“Melody, are you and Mr. John _married?”_ His innocent eyes peeked up at her.

“What? No! Why would you think that?” her heart raced at the very thought.

“Because you’re like Mummy and Daddy. You do a lot of things together. And he’s always making sure you’re okay. When you felt ill one time, he brought you home and kept pacing around until you felt better. And when he got hurt, you brought him home to see Daddy so he would be okay. I know I was asleep when that happened but Mummy told me about it. Sometimes you and Mr. John get cross and argue and don’t want to answer the phone like you did today, but then you talk or hug or kiss (on the cheek because Mr. John’s too scared to kiss you on the lips even though he really wants to), and you’re happy again. ‘Cause Mr. John really, really loves you, Melody, and you love him, even though you never say so, I know you do. Doesn’t that mean you’re married?”

She didn’t speak, stunned by her brother’s conclusions, unaware of the tears falling.

“ _Melody_ …why are you crying?”

* * *

 

“Come on, John, you talked to her the other day, right? Everything’s gonna be fine. I’m the one who should be worried, not you.” Clara reminded him as they walked out of the lift.

“No, _you’ll_ be brilliant, Clara. You always are. You _definitely_ don’t need to be worried.” His hands gestured as he spoke, emphasizing his point.

“And you don’t either.” She led him down the corridor, shaking her head. “Speaking of which—”

“Hello Sweetie.” Melody smiled, biting her lip as John entered the lounge. “Clara.”

“Morning, Melody.” John mumbled, waving his fingers nervously.

“Clara, don’t you look nice today?” she noted Clara’s dress suit.

“Thanks. Start my new job this morning.”

“So I’ve been told. Where will you be working from now on?”

“Um…it’s a firm called Schweigen Industries? Yeah, you’ve probably never heard of it. Originally German based, as you can tell—I think they used to have a branch in London, but it closed down for some reason, about 10 years ago. Now that they’ve rebuilt there are a lot of new job openings—and it just came up, and I heard they were looking for young professionals and I just—Melody—you okay?”

“ _Melody?”_ John’s voice was high-pitched, confused. His hand gripped Melody’s, and he understood why Clara had stopped so abruptly. Her skin felt cold, her fingers quivering against his. “Melody, what’s wrong?”

“Did—did you say Schweigen Industries?” Melody’s mouth barely fumbled the words.

“Yeah?”

“ _Melody_ , say something.” John stroked her curls, trying to soothe her.

“Clara— _you can’t_.” her throat caught, her body shaking with every word.

“Why—why not?”

“Anywhere but there, please. I’ll help you find a new job—I’ll do anything—just _please, you can’t work there._ You can’t. Promise me you won’t. _Please_.”

“Melody, what are you talking about? Wh-what’s going on?”

“Ten. Years. ago.” Her bottom lip quivered, her breath coming out in short puffs.

“Yes, we heard what she said—it—”

And something in his brain clicked, Jack’s words, his own suspicions, Melody’s trembling.

_‘Fine. You think you know her, do you? Then tell me what happened ten years ago.’_

_Ten years ago._

“ _Melody_ , what do you mean?”

“I…I used to…I used to work there…” Melody whispered, clinging to John’s hand like a lifeline. _“Ten years ago.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the penny drops...
> 
> Look up Schweigen in English and you'll have an even better idea of where I'm going with this. 
> 
> I hope the last scene didn't seem too dramatic or out of place. I'd love to know what you all think:)
> 
> UPDATE: (3/29)- I hate to say it, but it might be a little while until I post the next chapter. I'm only a few lines into it, and I've come under an unfortunate spell of writer's block. I also have other commitments stressing me out (mainly school), so I don't know how long it will be. I have not, however, given up on this fic.


	9. Brave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been forever since I last updated (really sorry about that). I've got some stressful things going on in my life, big decisions to make, you know, and on top of it all, I've had the toughest time with writer's block. I came to this blank word document completely lost and unsure how to put my thoughts into words. I've deleted and rewritten a lot more than usual, but I've finally manage to get a somewhat satisfying result. 
> 
> It's a short chapter (at least compared to what I normally post), but it's a necessary set up for the next one (which will probably be easier to write), and hopefully one that you'll enjoy.

Melody’s words echoed in his mind, drowning out the pounding of his own heart.

He froze, locked in place, brain finally piecing elements of the puzzle together. But the image was still hazy, unfinished.

“Clara…you have to… trust me. You can’t—can’t work—” Melody panted between shaky breaths, her voice strained, losing coherency. “ _Pleeease—”_

_“Melody—”_ John’s hand smoothed her back as he tried to comfort her, but he only became more aware of the shivering that had overtaken her body. “Melody, dear, I need you to calm down. Deep breaths, it’s okay. You’re going to be okay. Just calm down. Deep breaths, that’s it.”

She stilled for a second, and he would’ve breathed a sigh of relief if not for Clara’s worried shriek.

“Oh Gosh, John, she’s white as a sheet!”

“Melody? Deep breaths, remember? Hey, hang in there—” his frantic voice beckoned Melody’s rapid breathing to slow, but it made little impact.

The next few moments passed so quickly his brain could hardly keep up with the rest of his body, and before he knew it, Melody Williams had collapsed in his arms, her body cold and still— _too_ still.

Her pulse felt faint against his fingers, and John’s own heartbeat skyrocketed, his mind spinning, spinning, spinning.

“John?”

“She’s unconscious. Probably the result of a panic attack. Clara, we need to get her home as soon as possible!” he demanded, holding Melody loosely to his chest.

“Why not hospital?”

“ _Because_ I _said_ so!”

* * *

 

“How do you know Amelia’s home? She’s not answering her phone!” Clara noted, breathing hard, lugging Melody’s slumped form in her arms.

“Because she only works part-time, Clara! Mostly at home. And it’s a busy time of day!” He snapped, not thinking clearly. “Sorry, I just…I just _know_ , okay? Now, how is she?”

“Uhh…still breathing. But she’s out like a light. Shouldn’t we have just called an ambulance, John? She probably needs medical attention—it doesn’t look good—”

“No, we can’t. Melody made me promise to always bring her home if anything like this happens. She trusts me, Clara. I can’t—”

“But _why_?”

“I don’t know, but I suspect it has to do with whatever caused these blackouts in the first place. Whatever happened ten years ago.” A shadow fell over those blue-gray eyes, and John lowered his head, grim expression on his face.

“John—what happened? Why—why was she so scared?”

“Because something must have happened to her when she worked at Schweigen Industries. Something very bad. Something that triggered all of this.” He clenched his fist, angry.

“She told you?”

“No. But I’ve suspected. I’ve heard things. I never thought—I just—I don’t even know—it’s—it’s much worse than I ever imagined, Clara. It has to be. Melody is one of the bravest women I know; she wouldn’t just—she wouldn’t—” John’s voice cracked as the guilt and the fear set in.

_‘If you knew half of the awful things she did ten years ago—‘_

_‘Those blackouts she gets—they’re a sign of repeated memory loss. She’s tried to go back to a normal life, but what she doesn’t understand is that once you get involved with the wrong people, you’re never truly free.’_

_You’re never truly free._

_“Melody…”_

Why? _Why_ hadn’t he listened to Jack’s advice? He should’ve confronted Melody about this issue months ago. He could’ve helped her. Instead, he’d forced her to carry the burden of the past on her own.

A chill swept through his body, and he shivered, hands trembling as he reached over to stroke those soft curls.

“Melody…”

* * *

 

John managed to reach Amelia’s phone before they arrived, and just barely babbled out a coherent assessment of Melody’s current condition.

Amelia, though evidently distressed, seemed to hold up fairly well when she and Clara carried Melody into the house.

It wasn’t until they’d placed Melody on the sofa that John sensed Amelia’s growing agitation.

“Panic attack, yeah?” she asked, more to herself than anyone else. “And then another blackout.”

“As far as we can tell.” John confirmed, thumb circling Melody’s cold skin.

“We—we would’ve taken her to hospital—but John insisted—”

“Yes, of course. She never—well, it doesn’t matter.” Amelia shook her head. “Melody usually knows when something’s coming on. She would’ve called if she’d—so, something triggered this. Just like, the other night.”

“When?”

“Uhh…Friday?”

John’s heart sank as he recalled Melody’s eagerness to leave after she’d—after she’d— _kissed_ him.

“Oh.” His shoulders slumped, and the familiar guilt flooding his insides.

_It’s all my fault._

“What happened, John?”

“She—she was fine, this morning. And then Clara just mentioned her new job—and Melody—she just—I don’t know.”

“What? Your—your _job?_ ”

“At—at Schweigen Industries—”

Amelia’s abrupt silence sent another wave of panic through John. That sharp intake of breath—he knew it all too well. Like mother, like daughter, as the saying went.

“Wh—what did you say?” she whispered, disbelieving, barely able to speak. “No--no wonder…”

“Melody—she—she told me—well, _begged_ me not to—”

“Of course she would. She would never—never wish that on—on anyone.” Amelia clasped Melody’s hand, suddenly more protective than she’d been since they’d arrived.

“I don’t…understand--”

“Wish _what_ on anyone?” John interjected, cutting his sister off.

The tension in the room heightened just then, and he gulped, afraid to hear the answer.

But Amelia just patted the back of John’s hand, empathetic.

“Oh, John. She still hasn’t told you, has she?”

His eyes zipped shut, and he shook his head.

_‘Oh, but don’t you get it? That’s a part of her past she’s kept hidden, even from you, her supposed ‘best friend.’ She doesn’t trust you, don’t you see?’_

_No…stop it! Stop it! Don’t think like that!_

“No…she…she hasn’t.”

Amelia’s lips moved, but no sound came out.

“I…sorry. I mean, it’s not my business anyway, so I wouldn’t expect—”

“She’s just… _afraid_ , John.”

“But _why?”_ he grunted, frustration plain.

Clara’s hand slipped over his shoulder.

“John—”

“I just want to _help_ her! Why can’t she see that? Whatever this is, whatever happened—it won’t change anything, it couldn’t possibly change the way I—” he stopped himself, face burning at his near slip of tongue.

“I think you know exactly why.” Amelia gently guided his hand to Melody’s soft cheek, and John swallowed, his heart beating a rhythm that said, yes, he understood.

* * *

 

 Hours later, Melody stirred, her eyes blinking open, slowly registering the familiar white walls of the—wait, what— _where_ was she?

_Home. But_ what _?_

“Melody?” her mother cried, ushering a wave of confusion for Melody.

Oh no—she hadn’t—she hadn’t blacked out again had she?

“Wh-what h-happened? Wh-why am I here? Cla—”

“You had a panic attack, Melody. And—and, yes, it triggered another blackout.  Clara brought you here.” Amelia sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Your dad was here earlier to help you. We’re lucky Clara arrived as early as she did.”

_Clara…what about Clara?_

Her head spun like the gears of a clock, and she tried to distinguish the hazy image in her mind, the unsettling dread in her heart.

And then it hit her.

“Clara—oh Gosh, where’s Clara, Mum?” Melody breathed shakily, desperate.

“She’s—she’s helping John teach today. Since—since you couldn’t be there. Is that okay with you or—”

Melody’s face softened visibly as she sat back, closing her eyes.

“Mum… _Clara_...are you sure? Is she--”

“Melody, she’s fine.” Amelia repeated, voice unwavering. “ _I’m_ worried about _you_.” Her hand slipped through her daughter’s. “This is the second time in the past few days this has happened. Melody—I—I know you’ve been against seeing doctors, but maybe we should look into it—I mean, why not?”

“You know why not.” The words spewed out of her mouth like venom, softly spoken with deadly implications. “Mum, _Schweigen_ —” that all-encompassing dread tingled deep in her chest, a heavy burden to bear.

“Clara told me.” the woman’s eyes darkened for a moment; she gripped Melody’s hand tighter.

“Mum, I—I tried to tell her—but I couldn’t—”

“She’s not working there, Melody. Whatever you said to her—she was convinced, even if she didn’t understand fully. Now back to—”

“Does she—I mean, did you tell her—or John--”

“No.”

“Okay. Alright.” Melody sighed, nodding her head slowly. “Good.”

“ _But_ you _should_ tell them, Melody. If not Clara—then John. You—you should’ve seen him earlier. He was so… _distressed_.  Worried. He wants to understand—”

Her heart beat triple-time, thudding loudly as her mother’s words sunk in.

“But he can’t, Mum. Not ever. He wouldn’t—”

“Yeah, you keep saying that, Melody, but after today—you can’t just…just shrug it off like it didn’t happen. And John…he honestly just wants to help, to listen. Seeing you like this, so fragile, so afraid; it really hurts him.”

Melody remembered John’s shaky grip on her before she’d lost consciousness, his panicked, yet endearing attempts to console her.

“I…I know. But knowing what I _did_ …the…the things they _made_ me do; what _they_ did to _me_ ; wouldn’t that hurt him more?” She hung her head, silently awaiting her mother’s response.

“Maybe. But you know what? That tends to happen when you love someone. You’re willing to hurt for them, to bear their burdens. And you’re willing to tell them the truth, even _if_ it means hurting them.” Amelia gave her daughter a knowing smile.

A deep crimson poured into Melody’s cheeks, and she curled into her mother’s shoulder, quiet for a few moments.

“What if he doesn’t—”

“Oh, he will. You’ve got nothing to worry about in that regard. I’ve never seen a man so besotted, excluding your father, mind.”

Melody chuckled at that, a genuine, heartfelt sound coming from deep in her throat. But it soon faded, like breath on a mirror, dew on fresh grass. And the reality of the morning incident trickled back in, penetrating the corners of her mind, an uncomfortable sensation at the base of her neck, the constant fear of being watched, of being vulnerable—of the returning nightmares and of those who caused them.

 “Mum—I—I’m… _afraid_. The Silence…What if they—”

“They won’t.”

“But how—”

“I won’t let them. Not ever again. It’s been ten years, Melody. Ten years we’ve avoided them. We’re not about to give up now. And I won’t have my daughter living in fear. That’s just what they want. I’m not giving them that. What you _are_ going to be Melody, is what you always have been, very, very brave, and we’ll be right beside you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little AGMGTW reference there:)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it:) Next one will be pretty intense...and I have some time off soon, so I expect the next update will definitely come sooner than this one did!


	10. Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been forever, hasn't it? And I thought I was going to update sooner. :( Terribly sorry about that. 
> 
> I don't know what to think of this chapter. I have no idea how people will respond; I just know I've tried my best. It wasn't easy to write. John and Melody have a very important conversation in this chapter--there's a lot of dialogue, and he finds out the truth about Melody (well, some of it, there's still more to discover).
> 
> There is a lot of tension between them as well, and that's really down to Melody's fear of losing him. She thinks it's going to happen, so she tries to push him away before she tells him the truth.

Melody spent the remainder of the day sprawled in bed, trying to combat the exhaustion and dread that clawed inside.

No matter how much she wanted to sleep, she couldn’t seem to close her eyes without beckoning a series of unpleasant thoughts—flashes of the past, memories of this morning; images that left a pang in her gut.

After a while, Melody’s restlessness triumphed, and she settled slowly in her desk chair, before grabbing a little blue diary from the drawer.

Her hands trembled as she opened to the first blank page, the unsettling white staring back at her.

She sighed, twiddling her pen. Her fingers tapped against the desktop, creating a rhythm that echoed her rapid heartbeat.

The familiar fear swelled from within, the panic returning, full and consuming.

A menacing cackle from her nightmares rippled through her mind, and she dropped the pen, afraid.

_‘You never really escaped us, Melody Williams. We were always coming for you.’_

She pictured that face, grotesque and haunting, smiling wickedly at her. She had only vague memories of the woman who had once been her boss, though she remembered enough to know she was a force of power and terror.

Often she’d wake up in the middle of the night, breathing hard and sweating, unable to recall her dream but for the vision of that face lingering in her mind.

But after this morning, she seemed more real than ever, her dark eyes pooling into Melody’s conscious thoughts.

Glancing down at her quivering hand, Melody soon pressed the pen against the paper, wanting to sort through these terrifying emotions.

Yet she lost her courage, realizing that once she fully admitted that Schweigen industries was back, her nightmares would become realer and realer. Because no matter how far or how long she’d run from them, she knew now that she couldn’t run forever.

* * *

 

Melody’s eyes flickered open as her phone rang, and she realized then that she must have dozed off.

Before she could even check the caller ID, she clicked the answer button, holding the phone to her ear.

“Hello?” she muttered groggily, not fully awake.

 _“Oh—s-sorry. Did I wake you?”_ Melody recognized John’s panicked voice instantly.

Of course. Who else?

“No, it’s—fine.”

_“O—okay. Are you feeling any better, Melody?”_

“Honestly?”

_“Well, that would certainly be preferable.”_

“Not really.” She rubbed her eyes with her fists, as if that motion would remove the fear in her heart.

_“Is there—is there anything I can do?”_

Bless, he always did go straight to trying to fix things, even when they were far outside his control.

A pause.

_“Melody?”_

“I—don’t know.”

_“Do you—do you want to talk about it?”_

_Yes,_ she almost said. If she didn’t tell him soon, she might very well have a nervous breakdown in the middle of the school day. Every logical part of her mind told her that keeping this in any longer would only make her more vulnerable, more susceptible to whatever frightening possibilities lay in the future.

“If—if I told you the truth, you’d never—you’d never see me the same way.” It hurt to admit, but every instinct in her gut told her it was true. “Sorry—not _see_ me, you know what I mean.”

 _“I—I don’t think—I don’t think anything could change the way I…”_ he stopped, taking a deep breath. _“Melody, what I’m trying to say is—”_

“I know.” She cut him off, cheeks flushed, heart thumping in her chest. “That’s why I—that’s why I’m…afraid.”

_“But you don’t have to be.”_

“You sound like my mum.” Melody’s laugh was hollow and they both knew it.

 _“And you never answered my question.”_ Funny how he could catch her off guard so easily, like no one else.

Her brain swam with possibilities—potential outcomes, everything that could go wrong. But the more apprehension she felt, the more she realized she’d have to tell him sooner or later. And if she waited too long—well, she didn’t want to consider that.

“This isn’t—this isn’t a conversation I can have over the phone.” She shuddered, knowing the Silence’s capabilities and her own limitations.

_“Of course not. Um…maybe…maybe we could go to that quiet spot in the park. You know…where we first met. I could bring Idris. You know. Might—I don’t know, it sounds rubbish know that I say it aloud.”_

“No, no—I think—I think that’s a good idea.”

“ _You_ do? _I mean, you do? I mean,_ okay _. Will you—will you…um…be up to it tomorrow afternoon? After you pick up Anthony—not that, not that you have to come—I know you’re not feeling too well and—”_

“I’ll be there, Sweetie. And I’ll be at work too. I can’t afford to miss it.”

_“But are you sure—”_

“Yes, now stop doing that thing where you’re overly concerned about me or I might just go off and change my mind.”

 _“I--sorry.”_ Imagining that adorably pitiful look he must’ve had on his face lightened her heart a little. “ _Anyway,_ _you—you must be tired. I should—I should let you get some rest now. See you tomorrow, then?”_

“Yeah.”

* * *

 

Melody arrived early to work the next morning, dark circles looming under her eyes, with little time to think before the petite brunette practically ambushed her with questions.

“Are you—feeling a bit better today? Cause if not—I wouldn’t mind filling in if you need me to—” Clara’s offer surprised Melody; she’d expected to feel a degree of tension, but Clara treated her with the kindness she didn’t deserve.

“No—no. That’s okay. And thank you. For helping me yesterday. I—I’m sorry. I know I must not have made much sense but I—”

“It’s fine, Melody. I—I had some other offers open anyway. And I—I think I’m going to take the job at a local Secondary school. Not as much money as the other one would’ve been, but now that I’ve really thought about it, it’s probably for the best.” Clara babbled, mouth moving at 50 kilometers a minute as she wrung her hands anxiously, an action which reminded Melody too much of a certain someone who just happened to bump into her at that moment.

Typical John Smith.

“Ahhh, s-sorry, Melody,” the man stuttered, as he pressed a hand to Melody’s shoulder to support himself. “Ah, sorry again.”

Amused by the pitiful look on his face, Melody bit her lip, holding back a grin.

“He’s been a bit jittery lately.” Clara’s whisper caught John’s attention and his head snapped up immediately.

“I’m what?”

“Nothing, John.”

* * *

 

Despite the laugh they’d had a few minutes before, the congeniality of the moment quickly faded into an unsettling silence as they entered the office, John awkwardly shuffling to his desk, as Melody quietly settled into her chair, sorting through the cluttered stack of papers that definitely hadn’t been there before. Recognizing her own familiar handwriting, she shook her head, realizing John must have tried to organize her notes while she’d been recovering— _tried_ being the operative word. Her mouth opened and closed, and she almost made a witty comment about his housekeeping skills, but managed to stop herself, hands trembling as her mind scolded her for thinking she could act like everything was fine, when she knew nothing would ever be fine again. Not once she told John Smith the terrible truth about herself.

Much as she would have liked to focus on her paper-sorting, she couldn’t long ignore the growing look of frustration on John’s face as she watched from the corner of her eye. His bottom lip quivered slightly as he tapped his fingers nervously on the wooden surface—not a good sign. She could feel his longing to break the silence as if it were a palpable entity, yet she didn’t speak, trying to refocus on organizing those papers. _Trying_ , once again, being the operative word.

The dysphoria between them increased until John could hardly bear it any longer, so restless, he accidently banged his knee against his desk; red-faced and grunting in pain before he finally broke. Melody wasn’t surprised; an expert at hiding, she had a resolve of steel, while impatient John had a flimsy one at best. Of course he’d be the first to break.

“Are you…cross with me for some reason?” he asked, still tapping against his desk, his ears bright red.

“Swe— _John_ ,” she corrected, “class starts in five minutes. Do you really think it’s an appropriate time to be asking that?” she barely looked up from her notes. “Now, do you remember—”

“Are you?” his voice dangled on the last word, and bless, he more closely resembled a wounded little boy than a erudite college professor. “Because yesterday—”

Her eyes were anywhere but his face. “No. It’s not—it’s not that.” Melody’s shoulders sagged a bit.

The confusion on his face pierced her heart a little more. Of course she wasn’t angry with _him_ , how could she be? Kind, unsuspecting John who had never once judged her for as long as she’d known him. John Smith, entirely innocent of the situation she’d got herself entrenched in ten years ago.

“Is it about Sch—”

But the bell cut him off, and he grunted, a noise that Melody did not miss even as she turned the corner.

* * *

 

After a brief trek to the faculty lounge and back during lunch hour, Melody stumbled into the office, her head spinning, hands trembling, as she sank into the chair, relieved that John was nowhere in sight.

“Melody?”

His voice startled her, and she jerked slightly before glimpsing the small, intricately pattered teacup he placed on her desk.

“I...I thought you might like some tea.” He mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

Her heart softened at the gesture, and she muttered a soft, “Thanks.”

John’s throat constricted, and he lowered his head, leaning against the desk for support.

“Melody…” he heard her sniffle, and bent down, hand lightly touching her shoulder. “Hey.”

But she tensed, her body jerking away from his touch.

Melody felt her chest tighten, torn between the urge to flee and the urge to give in, the tragic look on his face enough to shatter her.

A beat of silence.

“Tell me how.” The sincerity and tenderness of his whisper surged through her, rippling between her ribs and into the crevices of her heart, where the fear blazed, unquenchable.

“Tell you _what_?”

He sighed again, shoulders dropping in defeat or desolation. “Tell me how to help you.” His hands tugged at his hair, pulling, pulling, pulling.

Melody’s eyes watered but she didn’t speak; throat dry, mouth empty.

“If you…if you’d rather not tell me about your past, then fine. I know how it burdens you, now more than ever, with whatever’s going on with Schweigen, but _Melody_ … it’s eating you alive.” His tongue lingered on the last syllable, and he laughed. A sardonic, bitter, properly frightening laugh that rattled Melody’s bones. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to— _to watch_ someone you l—someone you _care about_ live with that fear and that guilt and that burden—all on their own? And know that you’re _powerless_ to do anything about it?” John’s voice quivered as he spoke. “I know. I _know_ you’re scared. But you don’t have to be.”

“It’s not that simple. You wouldn’t—you wouldn’t understand—”

“Then help me. _Help_ me understand. I _want_ to understand.” His wide eyes shimmered like a lost puppy’s. “Please.”

John’s heartfelt plea brought back her mother’s words.

 _‘_ _But you know what? That tends to happen when you love someone. You’re willing to hurt for them, to bear their burdens. And you’re willing to tell them the truth, even_ _if_ _it means hurting them.’_

“I know.” Melody whispered to him, voice hoarse. “I’m—I’m trying, John. I said I’d be there, John. I said I’d tell you this afternoon, like we talked about. But that doesn’t mean it’s going to—it’s going to be easy for me.”

* * *

 

Her hands clutched the wheel like a lifeline as she pulled up to the small park where everything had begun. Almost a year ago now, and she could still picture that day, curled up next to John Smith on that bench, his beloved dog nestled at their feet. She’d been drawn to him even then, but she’d never imagined he’d become so close to her, a best friend, someone she—

No, she couldn’t think like that, not now. Not with the burden of what she’d have to tell him.

Nothing about this day had gone well—her tense conversation with John, Anthony’s belligerent questions _(‘What’s wrong, Melody?’; ‘Why do you look so scared, Melody’)_.

When the engine screeched to a holt, she nearly had a crisis of conscience, mind convincing her it was not too late, she could still flee.

But the familiar silhouette of a man sitting on a bench with his dog shattered any hope of escape. Because she owed it to him, she owed him the truth. She’d promised, after all.

* * *

John Smith recognized those soft footsteps before she even opened her mouth. His senses heightened, and he breathed deeply, knowing how difficult this would be for her.

The leash slithered out of his grasp as Idris slobbered Melody with wet doggy-kisses. He knew he’d brought the Old Girl for a reason.

“Hey, Idris. It’s nice to see you too.” Melody’s laugh was a mix of relief and exhaustion, the happiest sound she’d made in the past few days.

“Boy, it’s great to hear that laugh.” He admitted before he could stop himself, not oblivious to Melody’s shaky lapse of breath as she sank against the back of the bench, a good three feet away from him. His cheeks flushed as he tugged Idris’ leash, and gabbled, “Why don’t we give Melody some space, eh, Old Girl?”

Idris, although disappointed, complied reluctantly, resuming her recumbent position between John and Melody’s feet.

Sighing, John tipped his head back, fingers tapping anxiously against the cold metal, inches away from Melody’s. His heart didn’t fare much better, its sporadic rhythm drowning out his thoughts, beckoning him to reach for her hand—

But he stopped himself. Try as he might to comfort her, Melody would never admit to the insecurities and fears she always hid so well.

John pursed his lips, hesitant to speak, silently waiting for her to begin. When she didn’t, he resumed his somewhat hastily thought-out plan, running a hand through his hair before starting.

“I’m not proud of my past either, you know.” He let the words sink in, not missing Melody’s disbelieving snort. “No, seriously. I’m not.”

“John, not getting perfect marks for one semester is not a reason to despise your past.” Her tone was a combination of exasperation and endearment.

He didn’t know whether to take the comment as insulting or flattering, but he took a deep breath, hanging his head.

“When I was 15, I ran away.” Melody’s soft gasp sent a new wave of shame through his body, but he continued. “Yeah. After…after my dad died, I had a really hard time. In school, at home. Clara’s dad and I didn’t get along very well, and mum didn’t know what to do. But it wasn’t just that. I didn’t—I didn’t feel like anyone understood me. I felt so alone. And one day—it just—it just became too much and I ran off, took some of my parents’ money. Didn’t even think much about it. I thought I could do better for myself if I fled from my problems. But I was wrong.”

“John—you don’t—”

“No, let me finish.” John sighed, weary but insistent. “After I— _you know_ ; I got into some trouble. I wanted to adventure, to enjoy life, to rid myself of the ache, but the more I tried, the emptier I became. So eventually I went back. A year or so later completely broke. It was humiliating. But mum, bless her heart, forgave me and helped me get into Uni. And Clara, poor Clara didn’t understand why her big brother had gone away only to go away again. I’d let them all down—my family, so I tried to show them that I could amount to something at Uni. I started getting high marks again like I used to. But I got so invested and consumed with my academic successes that I got clever. Arrogant. Thought I was better than everyone else, with my IQ, my marks. And I had that attitude for a long time.”

John’s finger’s fiddled with Idris’ leash. “Until the day I had my accident. A little over ten years ago. I was…I was in this empty part of the building where I was interviewing for a job…no one was around…I’d gotten there pretty early. I don’t know how quickly it happened, but one moment everything was normal, and the next, I was huddled in the corner, terrified, as the light flashed around me and stuff flung at me, the debris flinging into my eyes before I could even grasp what was happening. Next thing I knew, I was in a hospital, only everything was dark. They told me that I’d survived an explosion. An accident, a gas leak, they said. I couldn’t even remember the past few weeks at all, not until later, anyway. It was terrifying, and even more horrifying when they told me my blindness would not be temporary. My life was never the same after that…how could it be? I suddenly had to swallow my pride and depend on other people; I had to reassess my plans, my future, everything. And it humbled me. Made me who I am today.”

His eyes watered, and he swallowed, wringing his hands. “When our mum died a few years ago, Clara started to take care of me. She didn’t have to, of course. But that’s just who she is. Despite how I treated the family, my little sister grew up to be one of the kindest, loving people I know. And she’s—she’s been there for me ever since.”

Tears trickled down his cheeks, but he didn’t try to stop them. “But little sisters can’t fix everything. Not on their own, anyway. When my friend Donna got in a car accident and suffered amnesia as a result—I was devastated, inconsolable, depressed. Clara tried to help, but I just retreated further into myself. John Smith—the blind guy. Incapable of anything. An object of pity. And then, one day, I stumbled into the street and nearly got run over. But _you_ saved me.” He turned towards her with a wobbly smile. “Not far from here, in fact. And then we came to this very bench—and well, you know the rest. You’ve saved me so many times since then, Melody Williams, but this is where it started. Right here. I want you to remember that. And I want you to know that I have a past too and that I’m not perfect either, and _nothing_ you’ve done in your past will change who you are to me.” John choked out the last few words, voice trembling.

* * *

 

“I…I never…I never knew,” Melody sobbed, overcome. John’s fingers slid closer and closer, but she avoided them, feeling selfish and inadequate.

“Perhaps we’re more alike than you think, Melody.” He mused, grey eyes unreadable.

Sucking in a breath, she leant back, gathering her strength. 

* * *

 

“It…it all started by accident. I was young and naïve and desperate. I needed a job. It all seems so simple, really. I heard about this place called Schweigen industries in need of young professionals. Wasn’t quite the job I wanted, but they paid well, and even though the application process was difficult, I got hired. What I didn’t know was the moment I signed my contract I’d become a member of an organization known as the…as the…well, I don't know if I should say it here. They only hired the brightest and the best, but what they did with us—it’s just—I don’t like to think about it. I only remember bits and pieces because everything we did—it was to be kept secret. So they’d—they’d wipe out memories; I don’t know how. If we—if we spoke of it to anyone—they’d—they’d…” Melody’s throat caught, and she struggled to continue. “…torture us.”

John’s fist tightened, visible lines of anger forming on his face.

“Sometimes I would wake up with nightmares about it—and I’d tell myself it wasn’t—it wasn’t real, but then I’d see the scars. And I’d know. I hid them from mum. Pretended everything was fine. Because I couldn’t risk—couldn’t risk putting my family in danger.”

“It was bad, John. They taught me all sorts of things…computer programming, hacking…even…even combat skills. And they—they _forced_ me to—to target _people_. Then they’d wipe my memory—but even then, I’d come home with this—this terrible guilt, and I—I knew I’d done something awful. It must have got to me after a while because I started writing these secret notes to myself before I’d get my memory wiped. I’d put them in places—places they wouldn’t expect, and later—later I’d find them. And I’d—I’d see these tally marks. I didn’t know what they meant. But then I realized. Because I started leaving myself other notes, with names. And I understood. That biting guilt, worse than anything I’d ever felt before. The kind of guilt that eats away inside you until there’s nothing left of what you used to be. I felt that guilt because I’d _murdered innocent people_ , John. Who cares if I was forced to? I still did it, even if it wasn’t direct; I let people use me to kill. And no matter how long ago that was, even with the gaps of memory, the blurry edges of the past, even if I was able to get out of that job, I can never escape that truth. _I am a murderer.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so that conversation will continue in the next chapter. Clearly Melody has just scratched the surface; she hasn't explained how Schweigen industries collapsed or anything like that. But don't worry, it will be addressed. And there's some other truths about Melody's past that will surface very soon. Things even she hasn't realized--yet.
> 
> And we've learned some more about John's background, too. That is sort of based on the the Doctor's past,with the running away and all. I also think that the Doctor and River (in terms of canon) have always been able to understand each other in such a deep way, so I want that for John and Melody too.
> 
> I don't know how long it'll be before I update again. Hopefully soon, but I don't know.


	11. Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter focuses mainly on John's emotional reaction to everything Melody's told him. It's on the shorter side, but I hope you enjoy it, nonetheless.

John’s heart tore a little at the guilt and conviction in her words.

_‘I am a murderer.’_

His stomach churned, leaving an uncomfortable, nagging sensation deep in his gut. He fumbled his lips, but couldn’t speak, dumbstruck.

So he let the silence linger between them, unwilling to push Melody any further.

The reality of her words hadn’t so much surprised him as ushered a harsh, bitter rage; anger targeted not at Melody, but her captors. Just the thought of Melody being physically or verbally abused and coerced into something as terrible as murder left his mind numb, his heart racing, his hands trembling. He could now understand Melody’s fear about this situation, why she hadn’t fleshed out the gruesome details until he’d begged and badgered her enough that she couldn’t hide any longer.

John didn’t realize he’d clenched his fist until he felt Melody’s familiar, gentle fingers glide over his hand.

“ _John?”_ she croaked, voice shaking, barely audible. “I’m—I’m _sorry.”_

Feeling bereft at the loss of her feather-light touch, John quickly claimed her hand before she could protest, threading his fingers through hers.

He gave it a comforting squeeze, saying more with his actions than he could ever put into words.

“Me-lo- _dy_ ,” he finally rasped, each syllable tinged with emotion, “How did you get out?”

* * *

 

 Her fingers trembled in his grasp, and she closed her eyes, as if to concentrate, to remember.

“My parents. Well, Mum primarily, but Dad too. He may be visually blind, but he is certainly not blind to emotions. Ever since I got that job, they both sensed the change in me. I’d come home so despondent and withdrawn, so unlike the person I was before. Before I—before I… _killed_. The worst part was I wasn’t fully aware of why I was feeling that way either, with the repeated memory wipes. But after I started leaving myself notes…I became more aware. Tried to hide from them for their own protection. I didn’t want the organization targeting my family, so I did everything I could to keep the truth a secret. But Mum managed to find the notes I’d left myself…she started to piece everything together, did some research. Everything about that time is hazy now…but sometimes I have these awful dreams…I still don’t remember much. Most of what I know comes from what my parents told me…after…after Schweigen Industries was dismantled. But there is one day that I still remember distinctly…”

* * *

 

_The bright lights flickered on her eyelids, slowly ushering her out of unconsciousness and into the white-walled confines of the room._

_She squinted, confused and overwhelmed, her heart beating frantically as she failed to place her surroundings._

_“Wh-where a-am I?” Melody huffed, voice sounding foreign to her own ears, a realization which only increased her fear and uncertainty._

_“Melody…” her mother’s tear-streaked face entered her view, and she felt the slender fingers wrap around her hand. “Rory, she’s awake, Rory, Melody’s—”_

_She watched her dad stir beside her mother, his blue-grey eyes blinking open in relief._

_“Mum…Dad…?”_

_“You’re in hospital, Melody. You’re going to be fine, the doctor said. You’re okay.”_

_Somehow her father’s shaky voice didn’t reassure her._

_“What—what happened?”_

_“You had a panic attack, darling. You blacked out for a while. But you’re fine now, that’s all that matters. And you’re safe, Melody. You’ll always be safe from now on.”_

_She tried to move, but her whole body constricted in pain._

_“Everything hurts. Why does everything hurt? Oh gosh, my head…” Melody groaned._

_“You’ve been through a lot, honey. But it will be better now, we promise.” Amelia’s hold on her hand tightened._

_“But my new job…what…what was it called…Schweigen…or something? Is that German? It sounds funny…Mind’s all fuzzy…I can’t…can’t remember…when do I start work…what if they—”_

_“Schweigen Industries went bankrupt a few days ago. You won’t be working there ever again, Melody.” Something in her mother’s eye seemed odd, like she wasn’t telling her everything, like she’d been a part of what happened. But it couldn’t be; she was probably delirious anyway…_

* * *

 

“Sometimes I wonder how much my parents have kept from me since that day. I couldn’t even remember I’d ever worked at Schweigen, but slowly, some of it has come back, and with the guilt, my parents had to tell me something. It always seemed strange that Schweigen collapsed so conveniently and without gleaning too much attention from the press. I’ve always thought that maybe my mum had something to do with that…but I’ve no idea. We just accepted what happened…and figured that I was safe for the time being. Kovarian, the leader of the organization, mysteriously disappeared and that was that. Only it wasn’t. It was too easy. Deep down, I knew that something was in the works. That they’d let me off on purpose. And that one day, they would come back…” she stopped, shivering. “And…and now they have…”

Tears cascaded down her cheeks, and she let them fall, tired of holding her emotions in.

“I tried to move past all this, but what I’m realizing now is…I never really have. I’ve just held it in, the guilt, the fear. It’s always there, clawing at the back of my mind. I tried to believe that I was different, better, tried to convince myself that I could have a relatively normal life. With my family, my job, my friends… _you_. You were my best friend, and then things started to change, and I got too close, _we_ got too close. And in doing so, I’ve hurt you. I’ve lied and I’ve hidden the truth, and now, I’ve put you in the crossfire. For all I know, they could target _you_ because of _me_ …” her bottom lip quivered. “I didn’t want you to know this for your own good. I thought I was protecting you. But now it doesn’t matter, you’re in danger either way, I’m tired of lying, and you’re right, you deserve to know the truth. And now that you do, you can save _yourself_. Get a new assistant professor. Stay as far away from me as you can. _Please_.” Melody begged, dropping his hand as she scooted to the edge of the bench.

* * *

 

Her desperate plea rang in his ears, reverberating above the sound of his own heartbeat, leaving a sharp, biting pain in his chest.

His throat felt dry, but he fumbled his lips, forcing the sound out.

“I _can’t.”_ he whispered just loudly enough for Melody to hear.

John’s hand brushed her shoulder, and she stiffened, body trembling.

“John, did you not hear a word of that? I am a _murderer_ , wanted by an organization that has just returned and will surely come after me and everyone I care about, so the best thing you can do is—”

“NO.” he grabbed her wrist then, fingernails digging into her soft skin, trying to hold on, will her to listen. “You are wrong, Melody Williams.”

“John, let go, you’re—”

“Not until you listen!” an exasperated groan followed that protest, and he weakened his grasp a little, not intending to hurt her. “You’re _wrong_ , Melody! You’re _not_ a murderer…do you hear me?”

“But I _am_ —“

“No. That is who they said you _were_. They forced you to do unfathomable things…but that’s the point, you never had a _choice!_ You’re no more a murderer than a soldier fighting a war, forced to do unthinkable things to protect those he cares about. I’m not saying you’re perfect, Melody, or pretending that those actions didn’t damage you, didn’t make you feel guilty. But you can’t let the shame of your past define you today. Because you are _so much more_ than that. If you hadn’t saved me last year, I would have died. I owe _my life_ to you. Have you ever thought about that?” He spat, anger and bitterness and fear and love boiling up in his heart.

“Yes, and now I’ll be the reason you’ll _lose_ it! You are not _safe_ with me, John…”

“And _you’re_ not safe _without_ me. If you really think that I would just leave you on your own, with this psychotic Nazi-like organization due to come after you at any time, just to save my hide, then you must not know me _at all_. I don’t care what happens to me…if there’s a chance I can help you, a chance I can protect you, a chance that I can take your place, then I am sure as hell gonna take it because I could not _live_ with myself if anything happened to you when _I_ could have prevented it. Melody, you may not believe this, but you mean _the world_ to me, and that’s why I can’t leave you. I won’t. I could _never_.” The last word came out as a husky whisper, filled with truth and longing.

He sucked in a breath, relaxing his grip altogether and placing a lingering kiss to the back of her hand.

“I’m sorry.”

His throat closed then, the dilemma between his heart and his mind consuming his soul; part of him, the part driven by his raging emotions, willed him to just lean in and capture her lips in his, to kiss her like he longed to do, like she’d done to him only days ago. But logic—was it really logic?—and maybe fear told him that wasn’t what _she_ needed, even if every aching bone inside him said otherwise, because this was never about _him_.

So instead, he took her in his arms, pulling her into a tight embrace as she shuddered against him, her tears soaking into his jacket as he peppered those wonderful curls with soft kisses, and whispered three words into her ear—three terrifying words that nearly got lost in his throat, three terrifying words that he might not ever get the chance to say, three terrifying words that she needed to hear no matter how terrified he was, three terrifying words that he meant with all his heart, three terrifying words that, he realized, came so naturally that maybe they weren’t so terrifying after all.

_I love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's what the Doctor whispered in her ear in LKH right? 
> 
> I know the collapse of Schweigen still seems unclear, but that will be clarified later on...
> 
> I suspect the action will resume in the next chapter, and there will be some pivotal moments that will really define these characters even more. But as for when I'll get around to that...I really can't say. I'm meeting Alex Kingston, Matt Smith, and Karen Gillan within the next few weeks, so I'll be busy making them artwork, I don't know if I'll find the motivation to update this story within that time frame, but I will try.
> 
> Thanks for reading:) Have a great day!


	12. Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm finally getting somewhere with this chapter! It's pretty long and thank God I had the motivation to get it done. I have a good idea of where I'm going from here, so if you're lucky, I might be able to update sooner than usual.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it:)

Melody’s heart lurched when he whispered that long unspoken truth in her ear, a truth she already knew all too well, a truth which didn’t seem to reach full weight until that moment.

She buried her face in his shoulder, her tears soaking his jacket as she gave into emotion and sobbed, silently releasing the anxiety she had pent up for days.

His three words echoed in her mind, rippling to the crevices of her twisted heart, a sliver of light in the darkness.

_I love you._

But how could he? She’d just admitted to a murderous past and warned him of the inevitable danger coming, and yet he sat here, cradling her in his arms, stroking her curls like she was the most precious thing in the universe.

And she’d let him. Melody selfishly clung to her best friend, craved this gracious and forgiving love that oozed out of him with every touch. It wasn’t that ephemeral, romantic love shared between young lovers; it was the kind that lasted, that was spoken through quiet actions and soft touches.

Unconditional.

Because she’d done nothing to deserve it. Yet he expended his time and his energy to comfort _her_ , Melody Williams, a broken and flawed woman so burdened by past sins she could hardly carry on. Not to say he was perfect or the answer to all her problems, because he certainly wasn’t, a flawed man himself.

Something twisted in her heart as she reluctantly pulled back, mentally chastising herself for giving in to her heart.

Her gaze flickered to John; that familiar face contorted with concern and fear, that adorable brow resting beneath his fringe, those grey, teary eyes peering back at her, pouring into the shattered bits of the soul she didn’t believe she had.

His nose crinkled a bit, completing the look, and as he stared vacantly at her, she felt like he was seeing her properly for the first time, and vice versa. Her heart memorized every detail of him, from this moment in time, so fleeting, yet so cherished. And in that moment, amid the silence, Melody Williams realized a frightening, yet wonderful truth—

John Smith was the most beautiful man she’d ever known.

* * *

 

When reality seemed to usher her out of her daze, Melody turned away, embarrassed, her hands swiping the tears beneath her eyes.

“Sorry.” She managed a nervous chuckle, face still red and tear-streaked.

 “Melody—”

“Thanks.” The word barely slipped out as she continued rubbing her eyes, afraid to steal another glance at him, knowing it would only break her. “Oh, look at the time—”

“Mel—”

“It’s late. We have work tomorrow. I’ll take you home. It’s the least I can do.” Melody’s laugh sounded fake even to her own ears. “Your risk, though. Because you know I can’t—can’t guarantee—your safety…”

“I—it’s fine. I’d feel better knowing you weren’t alone the whole time. I mean—”

“Okay.” She nodded, still not convinced, but certain that John would be too stubborn to change his mind.

* * *

 

An air of silence passed between them during the ride to John’s flat, much to his unease.

In an effort to keep himself quiet, John fiddled with Idris’ leash, worried as ever about Melody’s well-being.

Though he tried to comfort her earlier, he feared his attempts had only driven her further away, further into herself.

Even the irregular pattern of her breathing set him on edge, ushering a torrent of worry through his mind.

By the time they reached his apartment, Melody sighed deeply, her hands still locked on the steering wheel.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, feeling rather bereft at words.

“Hey—um, thank you for the ride.” Raking a hand through his hair, John fidgeted, nervous. “And thanks for trusting me with–with the truth. I know that wasn’t easy for you. And I’m—I’m sorry I don’t exactly have the—the right words, but I—I hope you know that I’m here for you. No matter what. Okay?” his hand squeezed her shoulder, and she tensed, but didn’t shoe him away.

Before she could respond, Idris shimmied her way between them, proceeding to lick Melody’s face.

Melody managed a laugh despite herself, her hands stroking Idris’ soft, golden fur.

John’s heart felt a little lighter, thankful that he had brought Idris along.

“See, the Old Girl is here for you too; aren’t you, Idris?” he pressed a kiss to the top of Idris’ head. “You’re a very good doggie, aren’t you? Yes, you are.” His voice deepened as he coddled his dog, and Melody giggled at the sound, much to John’s relief. “But I think we’d better go, Old Girl. So Melody can get back to her family, eh? Little Anthony probably misses his big sis, don’t you think?” Shooting Melody a wink, John tugged Idris by the leash, ready to exit the car.

“John, wait—shouldn’t I—shouldn’t I walk you inside?” there it was again, the uncertain tremor in her voice.

“I just thought, you know, you might not feel—I mean, I can just phone Clara, won’t take a mo—”

“No, I can—I can walk you in.” she insisted, stepping out of the vehicle and moving to the other side to open John’s door.

“Thanks.” He mumbled, ushering Idris out with him. “C’mon, Old Girl.”

* * *

 

Melody’s arm looped around him as they maneuvered up the stairs, and he secretly savored the warmth of her hand of his back.

Reaching the outside of John’s flat, they stopped, Melody carefully detaching herself from John so they stood a foot or so apart.

His heart leapt at the memory of the kiss they’d shared a few days ago in this very spot. Everything had seemed so simple and wonderful in that moment, like they were the only two souls in the world.

But now, with the knowledge of her painful past and frightful future lingering between them, he supposed he should’ve felt different. Yet that steadfast love he held for her had only grown stronger, he realized, and for the first time he could see her heart just as it was—damaged and broken and beautiful—more beautiful than he’d ever imaged.

A tiny smile quirked at his lips, and he blushed, unsure of what to say.

So, instead, he let his nervous instincts kick in and babbled something utterly nonsensical and insufficient.

“Thanks. You really didn’t have to—”

“No, no. It was no problem. Really, I—”

Nodding, John laced his fingers through hers, not missing her sharp intake of breath.

He leant in slowly, breathing against her ear.

“I meant what I said back there.” his other hand cupped her face. “And I am here for you. Always.” As if to reiterate his point, John hugged her close, before pressing a tender, heartfelt kiss to her cheek and lingering there for a moment.

Melody’s entire face flushed, and her lip trembled as she bit back tears, awestruck by John’s kindness.

“Hey.” He whispered, thumb stroking the place where he’d kissed her. “You’re not alone, Melody. Do you hear me? You’ve got your mum and your dad and Anthony and even Clara. And look at me, I’m not going anywhere. Understand?” his nose nuzzled hers, and he tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “You need anything, you phone me. Alright? Anything happens, you phone me. I’ll be right here, waiting. Got it?” John resisted the urge to lean in and close the gap between them, and instead drew back, flashing her that dorky grin he knew she loved. “Okay?”

Squeezing his hand, she nodded, tears swimming in her eyes.

“Okay.” Melody croaked, voice wavering. “Goodnight, John.”

“Goodnight, Melody.”

* * *

 

Alone on his sofa, with only Idris to keep him company, John Smith shivered, phone clasped to his chest.

Every possibility soared through his head—the idea that Melody could be taken by Schweigen in all sorts of galling methods, leaving a gruesome, sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Despite his fatigue, he knew he wouldn’t have any luck sleeping tonight.

He wanted to think that Melody would be fine, that she was probably safe in her home, sleeping, that if and when anything happened he would be there. But deep down, he couldn’t shake the nagging sensation that he was wrong, terribly wrong.

And in that dark, ominous part of his brain, Jack’s words finally made frightening sense.

_“Here’s the thing, John—you can’t trust her. You think you know her, but you don’t. You don’t understand who or what she is.”_

_“I swear, what I’m telling you is true. Melody Williams is_ _dangerous_ _.”_

_“I watch people like her. People who pose a threat to the public. It’s my job. And Melody Williams—she’s a threat. But the worst part is—she doesn’t fully realize it herself.”_

_But—but how could_ he _have known?_ Unless _—_

_No._

* * *

 

Heart pounding, Melody staggered into the house, tears still falling down her cheeks.

She couldn’t wipe the image of John’s loving face from her mind, the adorable smile he’d given her, the kiss that lingered on her cheek, the unspoken _I love you_ in their goodbye.

But she couldn’t think about that, she decided. It hurt too much. Knowing how much John loved her despite her weaknesses.

Now, entering the dark interior of the living room, she suddenly felt a chill rush through her, for a different reason altogether.

“Mum? Dad?” she called, immediately realizing her parents were nowhere to be seen. “Everything okay?”

Nothing but the cold, unsettling silence followed, and she trembled.

Just then, her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she sighed, relieved.

_They must’ve just been out late. They’re probably calling now to let me know. Phew. Nothing to worry about._

“Mum?” she asked, remembering how to breathe again.

No response.

“Mum, you alright?”

And then she heard it, that sudden, maniacal cackle from her nightmares.

_“Hell-o, Mel-o-dy.”_

Fear rippling through every crevice of her body, Melody hung up, absolutely terrified.

“Oh God…” she whimpered, pleading.

_It can’t be. It can’t be. It can’t be. I’m just hallucinating. It’s just my imagination. It can’t be—_

“Didn’t think you’d be rid of me that easily did you?” that vile, serpent-like voice returned, this time echoing across the room, causing Melody’s head to snap up, as her knuckles went white.

“How—how are you even doing that?” Melody demanded, sounding pathetic.

The invisible, unseen woman of her memory roared with laughter, sending a horrible wave of dread through Melody.

“Oh, Melody, Melody. I thought you were cleverer than that, dear.”

“Where are you?”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m a long way away. But I like to keep tabs on you. Let’s just say some of my boys strategically placed speakers and cameras all around this house while your dear old mummy and daddy were out.”

Her stomach twisted, and her head grew light, her breathing quickening.

 _“What have you done with them?”_ she shrieked, unable to conceal her fear any longer.

“They’re fine. For now. Took a convenient little family trip, I’d like to think. And little Anthony’s there too. Such a darling little boy, isn’t he?”

White hot rage surged through her blood at the mention of her brother.

“Don’t. you. _Touch._ Him.”

“Oh, don’t worry. He’s safe. As long as you and I can come to a little agreement.”

Shaking her head, Melody balled her fists, furious.

“No, _NO!_ You have no power over me, Kovarian. My days working for the Silence are long over.”

“Oh, you think so, do you? Then I’m sure you won’t be too terribly shocked when mummy and daddy and little Anthony get into an unfortunate accident.”

.“They’ve got nothing to do with this! Your fight is with me, and me alone, so don’t you dare bring my family into this, you _witch_!”

“You really believe that don’t you? Poor, poor Melody. Always so oblivious. Your mummy and daddy and that bloody Torchwood are the _reason_ Schweigen crumbled in the first place.”

_What? Torchwood—why does that sound familiar?_

“But you didn’t know that did you? Sweet little Melody, over thirty years old now, and they still treat you like a child. How _pathetic_.” Her snicker rippled straight to Melody’s heart.

“What. Do. You. Want?” Melody spat, heart drumming so loudly she could barely hear herself.

“Finally she asks. I knew you’d come around eventually, Melody. You always had such a weak resolve. Even now. And yes, I know all about that little stunt you pulled last year, saving a poor old blind man from getting hit by a car. How sweet. As if one good deed could atone for all your sins.”

“I’ll ask you again, _what do_ you _want?”_

“Ah, yes, funny we should mention your beloved John Smith. You’ve gotten quite cozy with your little boyfriend, haven’t you?”

“He’s got _nothing_ to do with this!”

“Oh, he’s got _everything_ to do with it, you stupid girl. How long ago was it that he had his little accident? Ten years ago?”

Confusion stirred in her mind, and she stumbled forward, trying to maintain her balance.

“What has that got to do with anything?”

“I’ll leave you to that one, dear. All I’ll say is this. If you want to keep your family safe, deliver John Smith to Gianelli’s at 9pm precisely tomorrow night. If you fail to do this, and if you breathe a word of this conversation to anyone, including your beloved John Smith, you can expect to see every one of your family members in a coffin by the next day. Now, be a dear and cooperate and we won’t have to go through all that trouble, now, will we? The choice is yours, Melody Williams.”

“No.” She wailed, despair rising in her throat as she sank to the floor, burying her face in the carpet. “ _No_.” a hoarse whimper left her lips.

“When you’re done with your little crying fit, I expect you’ll start to wonder how I expect to hold you to all this. Well, you see, there’s a little file of yours that we uncovered from your parents’—shall we say, _stash_ —that should help you understand. Call it blackmail, if you like. It’s one of those files you tried to sneak home with you all those years ago. I even decided to keep your little notes to yourself in there; you can thank me later. Look directly to your left—yes, that little coffee table on the side. That manila folder on top if it? That’s it. It will tell you all you need to know. While I look forward to seeing your reaction when you open it, I’ve got nothing more to say other than this: We’ll be watching Melody. If you go back on our agreement, I will not hesitate to follow through on my threats. And we wouldn’t want that, would we? So, why don’t you calm down, take a look at the file—hide it in a safe place where your parents won’t find it—we wouldn’t want that, either—and if we see you’ve gotten yourself together, your parents and little Anthony will come home from their little outing completely oblivious and unharmed. I leave the choice in your hands, Miss Williams. I hope you make the right one.”

* * *

 

Kovarian’s words echoed in her mind, taunting her, even as the room grew dreadfully silent. Melody waited a few minutes, half-expecting to hear the venomous voice chiding her, but when it didn’t, she curled into a ball, rocking back and forth on the floor.

_WhatdoIdo? WhatdoIdo? WhatdoIdo?_

_Stop it! Pull yourself together! You’re stronger than this!_

When the tears subsided enough that she could see, Melody glanced at the folder beside her, terror pumping through her veins the longer she stared.

She didn’t know what it contained, but she could guess. The name and information of some unfortunate victim of her past, some long dead soul who had fallen prey to her efforts. A file that could incriminate her for life if the police ever got their hands on it, which was precisely why Kovarian dared to use it against her.

Even so, she couldn’t just let it sit there, an enigma, a mystery. She had to know, had to—

One glance at the name on the label, and she felt her insides curl in on themselves as if she would wither and die right there.

_No, it can’t be. I don’t believe it. She’s just manipulating me—_

But she had to be sure, so she slowly opened the folder, only to reveal—

“No!” the bitter cry escaped her throat before she could totally process the reality that suddenly came crashing down on her. “No.”

Her fingers caressed his precious face, pictured on the first page. Ten years younger, he looked much the same with that ridiculous haircut and sappy grin. But it was the eyes that did her in—those lively, beautiful green eyes, looking up at her, pouring into her soul.

“No.” she whispered in vain, pure denial preventing her from accepting the truth. “No, _please_.”

She skimmed that fateful description before she could stop herself—

 

_Date Issued: 18/03/04_

 

_Skills/Abilities: Target is a genius, having had a 150 IQ at the age of 10._

_He is arrogant, egotistical, and unpredictable, known to be capable_

_of great feats. Target successfully evaded mother at the age of 15,_

_following father’s sudden death. He must not be trusted under any_

_circumstances; he is a threat to this organization and its mission, a_

_code red target._

 

_Physical Characteristics: 5’ 11” in height. 22 years old. Average build, slightly skinny._

_Dark brown hair, green eyes. Distinguishable features include a_

_large chin and bulging ears. Has a concealed scar on his head due_

_to childhood head trauma. Not too difficult to spot with these in mind._

 

_Family: Deceased- father. Living- mother, step-father, half-sister._

 

_Pressure Point: half-sister, Clara Oswald._

 

_Your Mission: Eliminate target in most effective manner possible. No excuses._

_Fail and parents {Amelia Jessica Pond Williams and Rory Arthur Williams}_

_will be eliminated._

 

“No.” she flung the file on the floor, angry tears spilling down her cheeks as she watched the papers scatter across the carpet. “It’s not true! It can’t be! It’s a trick, another one of Kovarian’s lies!”

But the truth blared in front of her, in the form of a small blue note hovering above the mass of documents, scrawled in her own unmistakable handwriting with three simple, yet undeniable words,

_Save John Smith._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah...I'm sure many of you guessed that already. It's kinda based on canon, anyway. But it is a shock for Melody. Ah, yes, Melody, poor Melody. She and John have no idea what they're in for.
> 
> On another note, I mentioned in the last chapter that I would be busy making artwork for Alex Kingston, Karen Gillan, and Matt Smith. Well, I did! I saw Macbeth on June 15th, but sadly didn't get to meet Alex. I did meet Paul Blackthorne (Detective Lance from Arrow), who was in the audience that day. 
> 
> I met Karen and Matt on June 21st in Philly, PA. It was AMAZING. I had them hold the artwork in the photo op picture, and I later gave it to them at their autograph booths. Funny story there, after I gave Matt his artwork, he did something completely unexpected and unnecessary, which you can see here (http://cmartlover.tumblr.com/post/89518900536/fyi-you-might-wanna-read-this-before-you-watch) if you're interested. 
> 
> Have a great day, everyone!


	13. Determined

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to be honest, I would've liked to include more in this chapter than I did. I could've waited until I had more time to get to the point I wanted to end with, but as I'm about to go on vacation, I figured my readers deserved at least something (better than nothing, right?).

Feeling suddenly lightheaded and dizzy, Melody collapsed amid the pile of sprawled papers, the shock of the previous moment rippling through her veins like a poison. As the color drained from her face, her very livelihood poured out of her body, leaving an empty shell of a woman.

The tears flowed freely even though she tried to pull herself together, fearing for her family’s safety.

Her trembling fingers held that small blue note and she couldn’t stop rereading it over and over and over again.

_‘Save John Smith.’_

This was no doubt one of the many handwritten messages she’d left herself during her time at Schweigen. And yet, the revelation of those three words affected her more than she ever imagined possible.

For they held an unforeseen hope, that she’d never wanted to kill John Smith; she’d tried to save him ,and perhaps she’d succeeded, but not without consequences.

Because her best friend was blind, and now, with this file in front of her, she had no choice but to admit to herself the most terrifying truth of all—she, Melody Williams, was the reason John Smith lost his sight. And had things happened differently, she’d have been the reason he lost his—his _life_.

A suffocating guilt erupted in her chest, ushering another cry from her throat as she sobbed bitterly, a hollow emptiness in her heart.

_John…I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…_

Broken apologies streamed out of the mouth, but they would never be enough, would never erase the pain of what she had done, would never give the man she loved his sight back.

And there, in a home she’d so often found comfortable, Melody Williams felt so alone, more alone than she’d ever been in her entire life; alone and terrified, faced with a unforgivable past and an unthinkable task that would leave her shattered completely.

* * *

 

A few hours later, the living room looked spotless with Melody’s file carefully hidden in a place her parents would never find it.

Stretched out on the couch, Melody pretended to sleep, her once-teary face now pale and tired, the signs of her distress locked away deep inside her.

 ‘ _If we see you’ve gotten yourself together, your parents and little Anthony will come home from their little outing completely oblivious and unharmed…’_

She wouldn’t return to her room until she knew her family had arrived safely home.

So when they entered the house, the dozing Anthony in their arms, Melody felt herself relax for the first time that night.

Nothing but fatigue shown in her parents’ faces, which was a great relief to Melody.

Blanket swaying around her shoulders, Melody rose to meet them, muttering quietly.

“Long day?”

“Tell me about it. We got these cheap tickets to a carnival downtown, but when it was time to leave, we couldn’t find our keys!” Amelia huffed, hand on her husband’s back as they tottered up the stairs. “Took us three and a half bloody hours to find them!”

_So, that’s all it took to distract them, to keep them away…a lost pair of keys…_

“I’m sorry.” Melody’s soft whisper sounded more strained than she would’ve liked, so she managed a slight smile.

“Not your fault, darling.” Rory shook his head, now rousing the sleeping Anthony.

“Mummy…daddy…wha…” he gurgled, not fully conscious.

“Right here, love. It’s time for bed.” Pressing a kiss to her son’s forehead, Amelia watched him close his eyes. “That’s right.”

She glanced back to Melody, fear dawning on her face.

“Melody, you look exhausted…”

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t sleep…I was worried…” It was a half-truth, but she hoped it would suffice.

“Well, as you can see, we’re fine. Get some sleep.”

“Alright.” Melody mumbled, knowing that sleep was the last thing she’d be getting tonight.

* * *

 

“John, I really don’t see why we need to be here so early today, did you even phone Melody?” Clara asked as she and John shuffled down an empty university corridor.

“It’s fine, Clara.” Waving her off, John continued his quick gait, his hands clenched at his sides.

“Are you okay? What happened last night? You seem…I don’t know… _off_. John?” her voice gave away her anxiety, and John stopped, pressing a hand to her shoulder.

“I…it’s complicated, Clara.” He flashed her one of those trademark smiles, but she didn’t buy it for one second.

“And that’s not really much of an answer.” Her brows shot up and she cocked her hip, unconvinced.

“It’s really all I can give you right now, Clara.” His shoulders sagged a bit, and Clara, who knew he was being honest, decided not to press him any further.

“Okay. I just… _worry_.” She shrugged, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“I know. You’re a good sister to me. You always have been.”

“Thanks.”

* * *

 

After Clara left, John entered the lounge, intent on something other than his morning tea. If he’d calculated correctly, Melody wouldn’t be here for another 15 minutes at least, which would give him just enough time to—

“Turning in early this morning, Johnny boy? That’s not like you.” Ordinarily, John would ignore that unmistakable American accent, but today, it was precisely what he wanted to hear.

“Jack Harkness. Just the man I was looking for.” Anger flared in his eyes but only for a second. “I need to speak to you. In my office. Right now.”

“John—”

“ _Please.”_ He added, dropping a cup of coffee in front of Jack, as if that would settle the issue.

Apparently it did.

* * *

 

“What’s this all about? Much as I appreciate the gesture, I have a feeling you weren’t looking to have me join you for a morning coffee.” Jack eyed the man in the bowtie cautiously, sensing the tension brewing in the air.

Leaning back on his desk, John Smith shut his eyes, lost in thought. He stayed quiet for another few seconds, his fingers tapping anxiously on the wooden surface before he finally opened his mouth.

“How did you know?” John spat, furiosity behind every word. “About _Melody_.”

“Oh, sounds like somebody finally decided to listen to my little warning.” A throaty chuckle wafted across the room, sending John into a further rage. “Find out your girlfriend isn’t all she seems?”

“Shut. Up.” Slamming his fist on a table, John lost his patience, no longer in the mood for these petty games. “I don’t care about what she did. It wasn’t her fault. What I want to know is this— _how did you know_?” he growled, stepping closer to Jack.

“Not such an even tempered professor, after all? I misjudged you, John. Didn’t know you had it in you.” His laugh sent John’s pulse skyrocketing. “I told you before, John. Melody Williams poses a threat to the public. I was sent here to monitor her and to protect _you_. If you’ve found out about her past, then you know why she’s so dangerous—”

“No! Do you wanna know what’s dangerous? Schweigen Industries. And you would know because—you’re working for them aren’t you? That’s how you know all about Melody, isn’t it?” his index finger motioned back and forth as if to prove his point.

This time Jack laughed even harder, disbelieving.

“You honestly think I work for Schweigen? You really don’t know anything do you?”

“What are you talking about—you have to—”

“John, if I was working for them, why would I have ever warned you? It doesn’t make sense, does it? Surely you know that, the brilliant John Smith. Like I said before John, I’m here to _protect_ you—”

“Oh, yeah? Why don’t I believe you?”

“John, listen. I know all about Schweigen. Things probably even you don’t know. But I don’t work for them, I would never—I know what they were doing, and I know they’ve come back. I’ve never approved of their methods. Hell, my organization led the revolt to bring them down in the first place.”

“Your _organization_?” John shot him an incredulous look. “And what would that be?”

“I…I can’t talk about it. I’m sorry.” His hand went up in protest. “Look, John, trust me, if anything, I’m on your side—there’s nothing—”

“You’re wrong.”

“John, I—”

“No, Jack. _You’re_ wrong. You said you’re here to protect me. But I’m not the one who needs protecting. It’s Melody. If you were really on my side, you would understand that.” His eyes watered, but he didn’t let a single tear fall, just clenched his jaw. “Schweigen—they forced her to do those things. It wasn’t her choice. It was _never_ her choice. And now, she’s not safe. They’ll try to take her again—and you think _I’m_ the one who needs protecting?”

“Okay.” Resigned, Jack took a deep breath. “I understand what you’re saying—but you still don’t know everything.”

“I know everything I need to.”

“Fine. Suit yourself. I _might_ make an exception for Melody. But that’s all I can promise. And if you think this is all a simple business, you have a lot to learn Dr. John Smith. And in light of that, I’ll leave you with this: _Doctor who_?” something in the way Jack said those last two words set him on edge.

“What?”

“You’ll figure it out.” John could practically hear the smile in Jack’s voice as he shut the door behind him.

_Doctor Who? What does that mean? Is it a threat—no, a message maybe? Or a code of some sort? What was he talking about?_

Something about those words seemed familiar, but for the life of him, John couldn’t seem to remember. And he didn’t need to because that was the moment Melody Williams walked in.

* * *

 

Part of him dreaded keeping this secret from Melody, but logic told him he was doing what he promised—protecting her.

No matter how much he wished he could discuss with her all the details of his conversation with Jack, he knew it would only burden her more, which was the last thing he wanted.

John got so lost in thought he didn’t realize Melody hadn’t once spoken a word to him since she’d arrived. Something about her silence unnerved him—he listened to her breathing, the long, steady breaths she took as if she were trying to appear calm.

“Melody—”

“You weren’t in the lounge.” Her voice sounded too quiet, almost afraid.

“Sorry, forgot to tell you. Just got here a bit early this morning.” He expected maybe a witty remark about how unusual that was, but Melody remained silent. “Melody—what’s wrong? Are you—are you still upset about yesterday—I know that was hard for you, but I told you before, I’m here for you no matter what, okay?” tentatively moving toward her, John reached out to touch her arm, but she jerked away before he could.

“I’m fine, John.” He could hear a slight tremor in the way she spoke; if he hadn’t known her so well, he might have not even realized—

“No you’re not. You’re afraid. I can sense it. But Melody, you’ve already told me about your past, there’s nothing to be—so, so what is it, has something happened to your family? I—“

* * *

 

Melody’s heart splintered a little more; she held her breath, unable to look at John’s face—his beautiful, precious, concerned face—and those eyes, so kind—seeping into her soul, plaguing her. Because it was her fault—

“No.” She finished, suddenly remembering what he’d asked her.

“Then what is it?” the defeat in John’s voice punched her in the gut. “Me-lo- _dy_ —”

“Everything’s fine, John. Promise.”

 _Lies. Lies. Lies._ Each one tearing deeper at her heart.

_I’m sorry, John. I’m so, so sorry._

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not—”

“Yes, you are. But you don’t have to—”

He reached for her hand, but she shrunk away from him, frightened, unworthy, the guilt of what she’d done to him a heavy weight on her shoulders.

“Melody, did—did something happen? Last night, after you dropped me off—”

When she didn’t answer, John trudged a hand through his hair, nervous.

“It did, didn’t it? Something happened…and I wasn’t there…” the softness of his voice sent another pang of guilt to her heart. How could he blame himself? If anything, John was completely innocent of this ordeal, he couldn’t—he didn’t deserve—

“No.” She closed her eyes, shaking her head, biting back the inevitable tears.

“Melody, please—” he begged, fingers tentatively approaching hers. “What—what can I do to help you?”

_Get as far away from me as you possibly can. Forget you ever knew me, John Smith._

Even as the thoughts berated her, John’s wet, shimmering eyes penetrated her heart, pleading for her to understand.

But in her mind she saw another pair of eyes taunting her, the same eyes, but younger, dark green, unknowing, untouched by the supposed ‘accident’ that _she_ had caused.

If only she could turn back the clock, rewrite time, rewrite her past sins, ensure she’d never joined Schweigen industries, even if it meant she’d never met John Smith.

The longer she dwelled on the what-ifs, the harder it was to look John in the face—sweet John, precious John. Always kind, sympathetic, understanding. If only she’d known—If only—

Her head spun, and she couldn’t help but picture another set of faces—her family, the innocence with which they’d arrived last night; they had no idea…

_‘If you want to keep your family safe, deliver John Smith to Gianelli’s at 9pm precisely tomorrow night. If you fail to do this, and if you breathe a word of this conversation to anyone, including your beloved John Smith, you can expect to see every one of your family members in a coffin by the next day.’_

_‘in a coffin by the next day.’_

_I can’t…_

_‘Save John Smith.’_

_But…_ how?

“Melody,” his soft voice ushered her out of the moral dilemma ravaging her mind. He brushed his fingers against hers, a silent question. Every logical facet in her brain told her to pull away—he deserved so much better than this, than her—especially in light of what she was about to do.

 But before she could even think to resist his gentle touch, her hand was in his, fitting so perfectly—had she really never realized it until now?

_Oh, John…I’m sorry…_

“Do you—do you think maybe that we could go somewhere later? I—ah, I’d feel safer if you weren’t on your own. And I think maybe it’d cheer you up? If you want…we don’t—we don’t have to, of course. I just thought…”

Her heart pounded above his rambling, and she nearly broke right there. If he only knew…

Sucking in a breath, Melody cursed herself for the words due to come out of her mouth.

_I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, John. They’ll kill my family if I don’t…please, I don’t want to. I don’t have a choice._

“Okay.” She whispered against her will, voice shaky. “We could go to Gianelli’s, maybe?”

A sharp pang erupted in her stomach and she clenched her fist, battling the pain.

“Sure.” Bless him, he almost laughed, a genuine smile gracing his cheeks. “What time would be best?”

“Um…how ‘bout 7:30?” she asked nervously, mind spinning.

_7:30…that might buy me enough time…enough time to figure out how to warn him._

“Sounds good.” John’s face flushed, and he brought her hand to his heart, as if sensing her apprehension. “It’ll be alright, Melody. I’m here for you, _always_. Remember that.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles.

“I will.”

And in that moment, as John’s promise reverberated in her mind, a newfound determination filled her, rising from a pitiful corner of her heart and spreading throughout her whole body, and she too made a promise. A vow to protect the man she loved however she could and still save her family—even if it seemed impossible.

Because regardless of the horrifying reality of her past, or the terrifying uncertainty of her future, John Smith would always be worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, idk. What do you think of it? I'm not sure. The next chapter will be better, I promise. I'll have had 3 weeks to think about it.
> 
> 3 weeks, you say? Well, you see, I'm about to leave on a 3 week vacation/road trip across the US. That's why I felt I really had to give you some kind of chapter. Because I won't be updating for another 3 weeks at least.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading:)


	14. Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yes, I know it's been forever. Long, exciting vacation for three weeks from coast to coast of the US. Then I got to attend the Doctor Who World Tour screening in NYC and see Peter Capaldi, Jenna Coleman, and Steven Moffat, which can prove to be quite a distraction when it comes to writing. But I was finally able to get this chapter out of the way, and hopefully do it justice. It may seem confusing right now, but it will all make sense eventually. You're not meant to understand it all right now.

Melody’s brain couldn’t seem to keep up with the rest of her body, the solutions rippling through her mind as her heart pounded and she quickly dismissed every one as impossible.

During her break, she stared hopelessly at the clock on the wall, each tick another second wasted.

_I can’t keep going on like this…in circles…I need…I need to think of something…_

Every glance in John’s direction only added to the guilt already building inside. Quietly perched at his desk, John respected her need for silence, but his tense expression and constant fidgeting told her he was deeply worried.

She mentally screamed at him for being so selfless, so caring, so concerned about her, when his life hung in the balance.

Panic arose in her mind, clogging her thoughts, sending a sickening fear into her body. Time itself seemed to trap her, its powerful clutches pressing closer and closer as the minutes trickled away.

_I need more time…but what can I do? This is impossible…there’s no way…_

Something flickered in her brain then, an impulse, the beginning of a possibility.

“John,” she blurted out before she could think properly, evoking a sharp-head turn from her friend. “I—ah, my mum just texted. Apparently Anthony is ill. She needs me to pick him up as soon as possible. If I’d known, I would’ve given you notice, _I’m sorry_.”Melody kept her voice level, calm, hoping desperately that her impromptu lie wouldn’t sound as ludicrous to John as it did to her.

_I’m so sorry, John. I’m sorry…_

“Oh. Is—is he okay?” John’s brows knitted together in concern.

“Yeah. I think so. The poor thing. Needs to go home and get some rest. I don’t want to keep him waiting too long—do you—do you mind if I take off an hour early? Can you manage without me for an hour, or is that too much, if it is I can—”

“No, no, it’s okay. I’ll be fine. Go help your brother.” His hand brushed her shoulder and she felt a sob rise in her throat at the gesture.

“Thank you.” She managed barely, voice shaking.

Sensing her agitation, John gave her hand a soft squeeze.

“He’ll be fine, Melody.” The kindness in that smile nearly shattered her façade, but she held her breath, forcing herself to remain composed.

“Yeah.” After putting her belongings into her purse, Melody started toward the door.

“Hey, wait—” John tapped her lightly on the back, sounding hesitant. “About tonight. If you—if you need to be there for Anthony, we don’t have to go out. I won’t be—”

“No, my parents will watch him. We can still—” she pinched the bridge of her nose, gathering any lingering strength she had. “—you know. I’ll pick you up. 7:30. Okay?”

“Okay.”

* * *

 

When Melody arrived at her empty house, she scrambled to her room in the basement, her hands trembling as she removed the hidden file from under her bed.

Tears streamed down her cheeks but she simply ignored them, her bleary eyes glued to the folder.

She’d been too distraught to scour the file last night, but now, desperate and determined to find any clues to saving her friend, she poured through its contents.

_‘Why is he a code red target? What is so threatening about him? Yes, he may be an arrogant prat, but there has to be more to it. Maybe I should interview him.’_

_What?_

She stopped, eyes going wide as she fingered the next page, titled “John Smith Interview: 25/03/04.”

“But I couldn’t have—I’d remember—”

Her heart pounded in her ears as she continued reading in disbelief.

_‘Observations:_

_Set myself up with a phony ID as a reporter called ‘River Song.’ Subject agreed to interview for my ‘story’ on The Modern Genius without much of a fuss. He appeared flustered when we first met, but soon recovered himself with an air of confidence that is rare for a man his age. He answered all questions fairly succinctly, with only slight hesitation upon being asked about how his father’s death impacted his academic journey. Evidently, this event still weighs heavy on him. He certainly prides himself on his academic successes—or perhaps he was trying to impress me? Subject is slightly arrogant, but relatively congenial. He has this way about him—I don’t know how to describe it, but there is something in his eyes—I just felt like I could trust him. That is a quality that would make him dangerous if he was hiding something—but is he? He seems clever enough to be._

_Subject seemed to take to me well, overall. He had this daft grin on his face and looked terribly full of himself, but he was accommodating, charismatic. I think he fancies me. This could prove useful should I need to confront him face to face again before I carry out my mission._

_‘before I carry out my mission’_

The words circled in her head, and she pressed a hand against her temple, struck by the formality in the observations but also the undeniable reality of them—she had met John Smith before.

Closing her eyes, Melody tried to concentrate, to remember this incident, but she found only the dark bleakness of another memory that the Silence had ripped from her.

Her description of John fell short of the man she knew and loved today, but more than matched his recounting of his younger days—the days he regretted, where he was young and arrogant—before his accident.

Melody’s fist rubbed against her face as she swiped away a tear, her entire body shaking.

She wanted to throw the file across the floor, to deny the revelations it held, to go back to the way things were—but she couldn’t, not with John’s concerned eyes shimmering in her conscience, ushering her to keep reading.

That sticky note from earlier came into view, and she bit her lip.

_‘Save John Smith.’_

As she soon discovered, there were several other notes she’d left herself, each one bits of information that she couldn’t quite understand.

_‘I can’t do this anymore. It’s wrong. John Smith is an innocent man.’_

_‘I have to get out of here. I can’t let them know.’_

‘ _They’re starting to suspect—I need to be more thorough.’_

_‘The First Question is key.’_

_‘I can’t give up now.’_

_‘Remember. I have to remember.’_

_‘It’s passed down.’_

_‘Dr. John Smith. Doctor John Smith. The Doctor.’_

_‘He doesn’t know.’_

_‘Doctor Who? –a question or an anagram? Or both?’_

_Doctor Who?_

Melody paused, furrowing her brow, staring down at the question, unable to shake the sensation that it looked ever so familiar…

_Doctor Who? What is it—a warning? I don’t understand, how can it be—_

The answer gnawed at her, somewhere in the back of her mind, but she couldn’t place it—

She didn’t wait any longer, just flipped through the rest of the file.

_‘Silence Will Fall.’_

_‘ |||’_

_‘Hide it.’_

And there, the last lingering sticky note—nearly identical to the first.

_‘Save John Smith.’_

Sifting her hand through her curls, Melody groaned in frustration, drawing no significant conclusions, her notes simply unintelligible phrases that she didn’t have time to decipher.

She jabbed her finger at the words, angry, helpless, the bitter sobs overtaking her as she grabbed the note ready to tear it apart when suddenly she noticed a small bit of newspaper attached to its back. How had she missed that?

_‘Little Boy Saves Parents Against All Odds.’_

And below the headline, a note, a reminder, written in her handwriting, just above a short paragraph.

‘He is capable of great feats (Skills/Abilities)’

_‘John Smith, aged 8, grandson of the late World War II veteran of the same name, is reportedly unconscious after rescuing parents from the wreckage of their totaled vehicle. Though it seems impossible, the boy was apparently able to maneuver out of the car relatively uninjured and dislodge the door of the car with nothing but a rudimentary screwdriver, officials say.  In what must have been a rush of adrenaline, the boy moved both his parents out of the car before the paramedics arrived. His father, Dr. John Smith II, and his mother, Mrs. Ellie Smith, are in stable condition in what seems to be a miraculous rescue.’_

And in that moment, as she processed the reality of the words, Melody Williams had the first inclination of an idea—a crazy, impossible idea, but an idea, nonetheless.

Because if a brave little boy named John Smith could save both his parents under such remarkable circumstances, then maybe there was hope for her yet.

* * *

 

Unable to shake the feeling that Melody was more distraught than she let on, John dialed her number as soon as class let out.

When she didn’t answer, he phoned again, and again with no response. After the third time, he knew something was terribly wrong. So he used the number he’d been given for emergencies.

His foot tapped nervously through each of the three rings before he heard her voice on the other line.

“Amelia Williams’ desk.”

“Amelia—” he breathed, worry filling his tone.

“John? What is it? Has something happened? Did she have another blackout? Omi _gosh_ —”

“No, no, nothing like that. It’s just…she, she seemed pretty upset when she left. Is—is Anthony alright?”

“Yeah, as far as I know, what does that have to do with—”

_What—_

“Wait, but Melody said  that you—”

His heart fell as he realized the implications of Amelia’s words.

_Oh no. I knew something was off._

“She said _what_?”

“Never mind. It’s okay. I just…I don’t know. When you see Melody, make sure she’s alright. I’m really worried about her.”

“I will. And John?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For always lookin’ out for my daughter.”

* * *

 

“You’re awfully quiet.” Clara observed as she helped her brother to the car.

Lost in his thoughts, John nodded vaguely, sinking into the passengers’ seat.

“Did you even hear what I said?”

“What, sorry?” his brain surged back into reality at his sister’s question.

“You’re really out of it aren’t you?”

“Out of what? What do you mean, _Clara_?”

“Don’t ‘ _Clara_ ’ me, John. What’s going on?” she turned to look at his face, trying to decipher his peculiar expression.

“I don’t know what you mean, Clara.” He crossed his arms stubbornly.

“I mean, you haven’t even noticed.”

“Noticed what?”

“That I’m 15 minutes late!” her hands flew up from the driver’s wheel.

“So?”

“ _So?_ You always notice when I’m late. What’s going on?”

Annoyed, John huffed, leaning back in his chair.

“Nothing! I mean…it’s _complicated_ …”

“Funny, you said the same thing this morning.” Rolling her eyes, Clara resumed driving, maneuvering out of the car park.

* * *

 

“I…I don’t know, Clara. I’m just worried, I suppose.” John admitted later.

“About Melody?” her voice filled with compassion, and he nodded, unwilling to hide from her.

“How did _you_ know?” he sighed, hand on his forehead, as Clara parked the vehicle.

A moment of silence drifted between them, and his sister cupped his cheek softly.

“Those big sad eyes.” She conceded, shaking her head. “I always know.”

* * *

 

 “Melo _dy_ ,” Amelia called out as soon as she walked in the door. “Melody, are you down there?”

“ _Mummy_!” Anthony cried, lunging for his mother’s arms and hitting her full force.

“Owwww. I am not 26 anymore.” She muttered to herself as she ruffled her son’s hair, fond smile in place.

“Sorry, Mummy.”

“S’okay, buddy. Did you have a nice time at school?” her fingers pinched his cheeks and he giggled.

“ _Yes_ , Mummy. Did you know my birthday’s this week?”

“Yes, I did! And we’ve got a very special party planned for you, yeah?” Amelia grinned at her son’s enthusiasm.

“Is Melody coming, Mummy?”

She heard the uncertainty in his voice and paused, stroking his face tenderly.

“’Course she is, why wouldn’t she?”

Rubbing his eyes with his fists, Anthony shrugged.

“Because I think she forgot. About my birthday. And she seems really sad, and maybe scared. Do you know what’s wrong with her, Mummy?”

Amelia’s knuckles went white as she remembered John’s call.

_Oh, Melody…_

* * *

 

Melody didn’t come upstairs until an hour or so later, much to her mother’s fretting.

“Melody!” Amelia called from the kitchen where she and Rory were preparing dinner. “You look nice.” She exclaimed, hand on her hip as she eyed her daughter’s sleek black leather jacket and billowing dress. “I take it you’re not eating with us, then?”

“No, I’m going out.” She draped her purse over her shoulder, before fingering its pockets for her keys. “With John.”

Something in her voice did sound slightly off, Amelia realized as she watched her daughter.

“Speaking of John,” she added nonchalantly, peering over at Melody. “He called about you today.”

A flash of fear flickered on Melody’s face, but only for an instant.

“Why?”

“Told me to make sure you’re alright.”

Glancing down at her boots, Melody pursed her lips.

“He worries too much.”

“Does he?” Amelia raised a brow, more than skeptical.

“Yeah.” Her laugh sounded hollower than it should’ve, but she forced a smile, meandering over to her parents and hugging them for a second longer than normal. “Love you two.”

By the time she had withdrawn, Anthony had latched himself to her legs. “Love you, Melody.”

“And I love you, Anthony.” Crouching down to his level, she bopped him on the nose. “I know you’re going to have an exciting birthday.” Her lips brushed his cheek, and he blushed, smiling.

“You remembered!”

“Of course.” Melody’s reassurance elicited another hug from Anthony.

“You look really pretty, Melody. I’m sure Mr. John will think so too.”

Her heart sank at her brother’s comment, and she bit her lip, holding in the tears destined to fall at any moment.

“Thank you. Have a great night. See you later. Love you.” Her tongue lingered on the last two words, and she scurried out the door before her family could see the lone tear that had splashed down to her chin.

_I’m doing this for them. I have to remember that._

* * *

 

John’s worst fears were confirmed from the moment Melody picked him up. He could sense her unease as if it were a tangible entity.

But they sort of steered clear of the subject on the brief drive to Gianelli’s; in fact, they didn’t speak to each other much at all.

“You look lovely tonight, John.” She managed as they walked hand in hand into the restaurant, but even then John sensed the sorrow in her voice, the regret.

“So do you.” He smiled crookedly, knowing Melody probably looked wonderful in anything, even if he couldn’t see her himself. “Wearing petrichor again?”

“Yeah. I thought you liked it.”

“I do.” He winked, trying to alleviate some tension, only to realize Melody’s fingers were trembling in his.

* * *

 

While they waited for their food, John sensed Melody’s fear increasingly. Her hand had felt cold in his, as if all the life had been drained out of it, and he imagined she must’ve been very much the same.

 “Melody, do you trust me?” John asked, eyes shimmering.

He didn’t miss her harsh intake of breath.

“Absolutely.”

“Then why did you lie to me?” his voice was calm, cool, masking the deep fear that was bubbling up in his heart.

“I—I don’t know what you mean.” She stuttered before she could manage a complete sentence.

“Earlier today. When you left. To get _Anthony_.” He emphasized her brother’s name.

“Yeah?”

“You lied. I talked to your mum. Anthony was fine. So the question is, why did you leave early?” his face was dangerously close to hers, and she shuddered at the proximity. “Me- _lo_ -dy.”

“I wasn’t feeling well.”

“If that was all it was, you wouldn’t have lied to me.” His hand reached for hers across the table, and he could feel the pulse racing in her wrist.

“No, you’re right.” _Thump-thump, thump-thump._ “Do you trust _me_ , John?”

“Of course.” His finger twirled one of her curls before sliding down her cheek.

“Then you know that I must have a good reason.” Heat spread in the places where he’d touched her, and she shivered.

“Okay.”

“Thank you.” Her eyes folded shut, and she kissed the back of his hand, her tears splashing on his skin. “I’m sorry.”

“Me _lo_ dy,” he whispered, throat closing. “I thought we were done keeping secrets.”

“So did I.”

* * *

 

“You don’t really want to be here, do you?” he asked as Melody twiddled with her spaghetti, not even bothering to eat it.

“It’s not you, John.” She sighed, weary.

“Of course it’s me.” His head tilted down sadly.

“No. Not at all.” Her fingers touched his face. “I’d love to be anywhere with you.”

“But not here.”

“Yes.” Melody smiled bitterly.

“Then why _are_ we here?”

The question hung between them for a moment longer.

“Excellent question, Dr. Smith. And you know what’s also an excellent question? Doctor _Who_?”

Something about the way she said it rattled him to the core, echoing back to his conversation with Jack.

 _‘_ _I’ll leave you with this:_ _Doctor who_ _?’_

A chill rushed down his spine, and he felt Melody’s trembling fingers squeeze his.

_What’s she trying to tell me?_

“Interesting question, isn’t it? Almost like a game, in a way.”

“Yes.” He agreed, wanting to understand the cryptic meaning in her words.

“Well, let’s say you’re the Doctor, and I’m River Song.”

_River…Song…? Why does that sound familiar? What is she getting at?_

“Okay?”

“Doesn’t really answer the question does it? Well, let’s say River Song is a Doctor too. Of archaeology, mind. Maybe we’re getting closer to answering the question, right?”

“Right.”

“And maybe she’s had a bit of a rough past. Got involved with the wrong people. But she thinks she’s over that and falls in love with a man called the Doctor. Maybe she wants to tell him everything, but she can’t.”

“Why can’t she?” he played along, sensing the truth in Melody’s message.

_What’s going on?_

“Weren’t you listening, Sweetie? She got involved with the wrong people.” Melody’s lips pressed against his ear for a mere moment, and she laughed, a deep, hearty laugh that he knew to be fake. But that was the point. “Which of course, still leaves the question. Doctor Who? Well, River Song is a woman who loves her family deeply. She’d do anything to protect them. Especially when there’s danger.”

_Your family’s in danger?_

She tightened her grip on his hand as if to confirm his suspicions.

“But that still doesn’t really answer the question. In fact it leaves a big factor hanging in the balance, doesn’t it? Which is…”

“…the Doctor.” He finished, a sick sense of dread pooling in his stomach as reality dawned on him.

_They forced her to take me here._

_She doesn’t have a choice. No wonder she’s so bloody terrified._

“It’s—it’s okay. I understand.” His fingers smoothed circles in her palm, as if to explain all he couldn’t say.

“You’re very clever, Sweetie. In more ways than one.” Her voice cracked, and he knew she must’ve been crying again.

“Me _lo_ dy.”

“Let’s go outside, shall we?”

* * *

 

Even though she knew John was wise enough to understand her warning, she couldn’t get over that galling feeling in the pit of her stomach, a feeling of pure terror.

Because this was her betrayal, and he knew it.

“It’s 9 o’clock.”

_They’re due to come soon._

Melody’s hand felt stiff now, as if she was in shock, the inevitable stretching before her.

“Dinner was lovely, Sweetie.” She spouted some more nonsense to keep up the act, and he clutched her hand tighter.

He half-expected her to leave him there, to leave him to his doom, because she had to follow through and protect her family.

By the time he realized her hand had left his empty and cold, he felt it on his cheek as she pulled him into a heartfelt kiss, all the uncertainties of the moment vanishing for a split second, leaving John Smith and Melody Williams alone in a bubble where time was crashing around them.

When their lips parted, she still nuzzled her nose against his, lingering there, then moving down to his jawline and up to his ear to whisper—

 _“Run.”_ She breathed, simultaneously slipping a thin object into his hand and up his sleeve, but before he could even begin to process what it was, Melody collapsed just as something smothered his mouth and he succumbed to the alluring darkness around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...what'd you think? I don't know, myself. I'm pretty sure I know where I'm going though. And I've dropped more than a few hints along the way (even though they may not make sense right now).
> 
> As for the next update...I honestly can't say. I will update eventually, but I start college in a week, and that's really nerve wracking and stressful, so that's going to preoccupy my time for a while.


	15. Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it's been so long. School caught up with me. This chapter's sort of short, but it least it's something. Hopefully it offers an interesting perspective...

An uneasy air of silence rippled through the room as Amelia Williams finally stumbled into bed. Wearily, she sunk back into her pillow, sleepy eyes flickering open and closed at the light from the bedside table.

Feeling slightly disorientated, she peeked her head up, only to notice the firm lines of worry on her husband’s face. To anyone else, the expression might’ve been mistaken as stoic, but then again, Amelia Pond knew Rory Williams better than anyone, so of course she put a gentle hand to his shoulder.

Startled by the sudden physical contact, Rory stiffened, before melting into his wife’s touch.

 “Ro _ry_ …”

“It’s late. You should be asleep by now.” He sighed, brow furrowed as he closed his eyes.

“I could say the same for you.” She nearly scoffed, shaking her head as she brought her hand to her husband’s face. “Rory…”

“Hmm?”

“You’re worried, aren’t you?” It wasn’t even a question, more of a statement. “About Melody?”

“I…she’s probably fine, Amelia, you don’t need to—”

“But you _are_ worried…”

Taking a shaky breath, Rory nodded.

“Yeah.” He paused, voice quiet. “It’s just…I don’t know. I really shouldn’t be. She’s an adult; she can take care of herself, of course she can. But she’s still my little girl. And tonight…she just…seemed… _off_.” The word hung on his tongue for another beat. “Like…like she was frightened. Or something. The way she said goodbye…like it was almost…almost…”

“… _final?”_ Amelia finished, suddenly feeling lightheaded as she recalled the longing in Melody’s embrace.

“Amelia, I’m probably overreacting, I’m sure she’s fine… having a great time with John…” he tried to sound confident, but his quivering voice did nothing but confirm her growing fear.

“No, you’re right. You have this… _sense_ about people. I’m the one who overreacts. But this…this is like…like…what happened…last time…”

Rory’s features hardened for a second, but he soon regained his composure, calmly bringing his wife closer to him, taking her into his arms.

“Hey. We can’t think like that.” He whispered, voice filled with tenderness. “Because _Mrs. Williams_ , that is never, _ever_ gonna happen. Not again. I _promise_.” A small smile flickered on his lips. “Our daughter is brave and strong, and so is John…he would never let anything happen to her, we have to believe that.”

“I love you.” She breathed into his chest as she let the allure of sleep finally consume her.

“I love you too.”

* * *

 

 Amelia tried to believe her husband, she really did, but when she looked out the window the next morning, only to see the still half-empty driveway, the biting fear snuck up on her. Rory noticed too, but didn’t say much, suggesting that Melody probably had a perfectly reasonable explanation. But after Amelia dropped him off to work, she still couldn’t shake that nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“Mummy…are you okay?” Anthony chirped from the backseat, drawing her out of her darkest thoughts.

“’Course I am, honey.” Her shoulders sagged, and she bit her lip, concentrating on parking the car in front of the school.

“But you look so frightened.”

“I’m fine, Anthony. Okay?” Amelia attempted to flash him a reassuring smile. “Now, have a good day at school, little Mister.”

“’Kay, Mummy. Love you.”

“Love you too.” She whispered as she watched him exit the car, his little eyes meeting hers once more before he turned to enter the school, his “big boy” backpack dwarfing his tiny body.

And in her mind she could see a little girl looking much the same, a little girl with big eyes and bright red cheeks and beautiful curls. Her Melody.

Amelia’s heart clenched at the memory, and her face scrunched up as she wondered where her daughter was now, unable to shake the idea that she had somehow failed her.

* * *

 

It wasn’t until she got the call that she all the pent up panic and paranoia fully took its toll on her body.

“Hello?” she answered, momentarily filled with the hope that it might be Melody on the other end.

“Hey, Amelia, it’s Clara.”

Everything seemed to stop then, and her heart pounded in her ears, and she closed her eyes, trying to combat the fear that only seemed to grow with every beat of silence.

“Have you…have you seen John? I know he went out with Melody last night, but he never came home. I checked his flat this morning, did he by chance… _Amelia_?”

The phone fell to her lap, and she shivered, hands trembling as she picked it up, Clara’s question left hanging in the air.

She felt her defenses crumble in that instant, and all the color drained from her face as her lungs constricted.

“He’s…not…here.” She managed barely, weak in the knees. “Melody…she n-never…never…came home….either.”

 “…What?”

“They’re not here, Clara.” Amelia repeated, more for her benefit than Clara’s.

“But…John would’ve…he would’ve called me, he always does. This isn’t like him. Either of them. I don’t understand…” Clara’s thoughts came out a jumbled mess, probably the result of shock.

The image of Melody’s face rippled in Amelia’s mind as she recalled the way her daughter had looked last night—she’d tried to tell herself she’d only imagined it, but now, she could see it clearly—that unmistakable fear in her daughter’s eyes. Almost as if Melody had known that something was going to happen.

And she remembered seeing that same look a few days ago, after Melody’s fainting spell…

_‘Mum—I—I’m…_ _afraid_ _. The Silence…What if they—‘_

_No…_

The possibility that had been lingering at the back of her mind for hours now planted itself firmly in her heart.

_No…_

_“_ I…I…think I might…”

“W-What do you mean? What happened? Where _are_ they?”

Amelia leant against the counter, closing her eyes.

“I…” she brushed a stray hair from her face, taking a deep breath. “Is there any way you could take off work?”

“Well, I have a few discretionary days, but I’m not sure…”

“You want to find John don’t you?”

“Of course. And Melody.”

“Then can you do me a favor?” Amelia asked very slowly.

“Anythin’.”

“Meet me outside Gianelli’s in 15 minutes. There’s something I need to know…”

* * *

 

When Clara arrived at the restaurant, she found Amelia staring at the car park, a worried expression on her face.

“What is it?” Clara wondered, unable to read the older woman’s thoughts. So she followed Amelia’s eyes until—“Oh my stars…”

“Melody’s car.” Amelia nodded, hands on her hips.

“It’s still here. Which means…”

“ _Yeah.”_ Tears glistened in Amelia’s eyes, but she tried to hold them back. Like mother, like daughter, Clara reasoned. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

* * *

 

“Ciao,Welcome to Gianelli’s, may I take your…” 

“Yeah, sorry, not here to eat, actually.” Amelia quipped, Scottish accent thick and heavy. “I would like to speak to the manager, please.”

Clara watched as the man scurried to the back room, muttering something in Italian.

Another man appeared a minute or so later, his eyes grave as he glanced between the two of them.

“What can I do for you, signore?”

“Did you see my daughter here last night? She’s in her early thirties, got curly hair out to here, trust me, you’d remember…”

“And my brother? He was with her. He’s about the same age, rather lanky, floppy hair, prone to trip over things?” The words slipped off Clara’s tongue at record speed, leaving the salt-and-pepper haired man perplexed.

“Oh…Si, Si. The…ah…married couple.” Bless, he had the grace to smile. “They come here quite a lot, yeah?”

“Yes. But they’re not married. Heh, not _yet_ , anyway…It’s sort of…complicated. Are you sure we’re talking about the same people, John and Melody?”

“Si, si. They come here last night.”

“Did they…look alright? What I mean is, did anything seem out of the ordinary?”

“No. Well, Melody, she look a bit more…what is the word?... _nervous_ than usual. And sad.  She did not eat her spaghetti, I think.”

“About what time did they leave?” Clara interjected, tilting her head to the side.

“Oh, ah, I don’t know. Hmmm. Maybe about an hour before closing. Around 9’o clock?”

“Where were they sitting?” Amelia glanced around at the rows of tables.

“Over here. They always sit over here.” He motioned toward a corner in the back of the restaurant.

Scanning the general area, Amelia fumbled around the table, eyes widening.

Clara’s attention went back to the manager, and when she turned to Amelia again, the older woman had her hand in her pocket.

“Is there anything I can do? Something happen to my friends?”

“No, it’s nothin’.”

“But that other man. He come here today. Asking about my friends.”

“What other man?” Clara and Amelia muttered in unison.

“Oh, you must know him. Tall, American. Very handsome.”

“And he asked about John and Melody?”

“Si,Si. Not long ago before you come in. I—” he craned his neck a bit, mumbling something to himself, before he realized the two women were no longer standing in front of him. “Signore?”

* * *

 

“Tall, American, and handsome? Is that ringing a bell?” Amelia whispered to herself, hand still in her pocket as she trotted towards the car park.

“Better question is: what’s in your pocket?”

“Oh, you saw that now, did ya? Clever girl.” Reaching her car, Amelia relinquished a small bit of colored paper. “Found it tucked in the corner. S’pose they forgot to clean this bit up, yeah?”

“Look…” Clara’s voice quivered, and Amelia’s fingers clutched the paper tighter.

It was scrawled with a single word, in her daughter’s unmistakable handwriting…

_‘Help!’_

“I know; it’s definitely Melody’s, which means…”

“No, _look_ …” Clara nudged her, pointing at the semi-empty car park.

“Yeah, so what? Car park, what’d you expect?”

“No. Look. Melody’s car.”

“What about it?”

“It’s _gone_.”

* * *

 

Everything hurt, her head, her arms, her legs, her entire body. Her eyes fluttered and she tried to move but struggled, pain shooting up her abdomen.

Gradually, she forced herself to combat the pain, clenching her teeth as she twirled her wrist only to—

_No…_

The cold metal bit her skin, and her eyes popped open, only to be lost in a sea of darkness. She closed her eyes again, focusing on the feeling, the tightness around her wrist and ankles.

_What?_

Fear shot through her veins as the memories flooded back—the restaurant—that hand over her mouth, choking her—John—

Oh gosh, _John—_

Suddenly alert, Melody called out through the blackness, voice trembling.

_“John?”_

And then she heard it, that chilling cackle that could only have come from one woman.

_“What have you done with him?”_

“Oh, dear me. Looks like our little Melody Williams has woken up at last. And as for your boyfriend, don’t worry. He’ll come round soon enough. But rest assured, Melody, this…is…where…it…begins…” the sound, like the hiss of a serpent, made Melody’s body go numb.

“What—what are you talking about, Kovarian? I’m not playing your games anymore, kill me if you have to, but please, spare John. He’s _innocent_ of all this.”

“But the fun’s only just started. And you’re at the helm of it all, Melody Williams.”

“What…do you mean? The helm of _what?_ ”

“Yes, you gave us John Smith. But we haven’t finished with you yet. You will get all the information we need from him, and then you will complete the task we assigned you all those years ago. You will rid this organization of this turbulent Doctor and everything he stands for once and for all. But first you will tell him the truth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah...so, I don't know how soon it will be before I update again. Maybe a month at the most? It all depends on how much school work I have.
> 
> Anyway, hope you've enjoyed seeing this tale unfold...


	16. Persuasion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, it's been forever...thank you to anyone who's still reading this fic. College classes and writer's block caught up with me these past few months...but by the grace of God I was able to produce this short chapter. It's not much, but it will hopefully give you a bit more insight into John's past.

_The dark, hazy figures hovered over him, their voices a mingling together, a harsh cacophony of noise._

_His head throbbed, the images around him spinning and spinning and spinning…_

Why does everything hurt?

_Another unanswered question, swirling amidst disjointed thoughts…_

_A hand squeezed his, and he blinked in confusion, wondering who…_

_‘John, sweetie, you’re awake! Oh thank God, we were so worried…’_

_He couldn’t speak for a moment, chest suddenly heavy with fear, heart beating too fast…_

_‘Mum-my?’ A desperate plea echoed in his ears, but it sounded wrong, foreign. ‘Where am I?’_

_After trying to straighten, he fell back against the hard mattress, groaning._

_‘You’re at hospital, son. Mummy and I got in a very, very bad accident, but we’re okay now because you saved us, John. And you’re going to be okay too…’_

_‘_ Dad _dy?’_

_‘I’m here, John. I’m here. You’re safe. You’ll always be safe…’_

_‘Daddy…’_

The distant memory burned in his mind as he slowly shifted awake abruptly, head colliding with the harsh metal table as his heart drummed wildly in his chest.

His thoughts blurred together and he tried to remember—was he at hospital? Or was it just a dream, a long forgotten memory, was he—

“Me-lo- _dy_ …”

He choked, voice gruff as he recognized the voice of his best friend from somewhere up above him.

A bitter, angry tear trickled down his cheek as he listened to her scream--

 _‘Noooo. You can’t. Please don’t. John,_ John _!’_

“ _Lethergo!_ ” he yelled back to his captors, whoever they were, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as he wrestled his constraints, the tight metal grinding his wrists. “Do you hear me? Let her go _right now_ , or _so help me_ I’ll—”

“You’ll what, _Doctor_?”a voice hissed from behind him, so menacing he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand right up.

“Who _are_ you—” he spat, body trembling as the woman’s prickly fingernails slid around the table and onto his sternum.

“A woman with a very specific agenda.” The coolness in those words sent a chill through his body.

“What do you want with Melody?”

“Oh, Melody, Melody, _Melody_. It’s always about Melody, isn’t it, Doctor? Such a shame…if you only knew…”

 _“Whatdoyourwantwithher_?” his cuffed fists slammed against the table, metal clashing against metal, a dissonant clamor.

“Doctor, Doctor, always so demanding. Thinking you’re in the right when you don’t even know the full story. After all these years, that hasn’t changed. A pity. Though I suppose I shouldn’t have expected any less.”

“What are you talking about? I’ve never seen you before in my life!”

“Oh, and there’s that ego. You don’t understand do you, Doctor? You never do.”

“I have a name you know.”

“Ah, yes, John Smith. A misnomer if you ask me. Much too ordinary for the mighty _Doctor_.”

“ _Doctor?_ It’s just a title.”

“Oh, but it’s so much more than that. It’s a story. The legend of the man who makes people better. The soldier so brave he doesn’t need a gun.”

“I’m not a soldier!”

“When did I ever say I was talking about _you_?”

“You just—”

“You still don’t get it do you? _Doctor_ John Smith. The Doctor. You’re not the first to go by that name… Are you?”

“What do you me—”

“The soldier so brave he doesn’t need a gun? Do you still not get it?”

“No, I—”

“He fought in the War to end all Wars. Against those who sought to make a better world, a perfect one. And he made a great enemy.”

“ _Who_ —”

“The _Doctor_. Doctor John Smith. More than just a name. A legacy passed down through the generations. But it all began with one man.” Her finger snaked along his chin down to his collar as he shook his head. “Oh, Doctor, still far too slow. Wouldn’t your grandfather be ashamed?”

“My _grandfather_ …?”

“Doctor John Smith! The World War II veteran who never really got the credit he deserved, am I right? And your father, let’s not forget him. Another Doctor. Founder of the question, ‘Doctor Who’? But what does that mean, you ask? Oh, just switch the letters round a bit and you get… Torchwood.  Your father, Doctor John Smith, the head of that bloody Torchwood. But you didn’t know that did you? Daddy never told his sweet little boy who he really was, did he? Not exactly a model parent. Lucky for you, we took care of that problem before it ever came to fruition.”

Something in the way she said it, so calmly and nonchalantly, disturbed John, the echo of her words seeping into his conscience.

“You—”

“Did you honestly think it was an accident that your father died the way he did?”

His stomach dropped then, the reality of her question stinging like the pain of a physical blow, slowly, slowly…

“ _No_ …”

“Oh yes. But enough about that, dear. Aren’t you forgetting your original concern? ‘What do we want with _Melody’_? An interesting question…as you’re about to find out. And who knows? Perhaps you’ll find out a little more about yourself along the way, _Doctor_.”

A bone-chilling silence followed then, leaving John a trembling mess of emotions, while his interrogator didn’t even flinch.

“Bring her in.”

* * *

 

Stumbling through the doorway, Melody sank to her knees, the throbbing of her wounds all but forgotten at the sight of John’s constricted face.

_“John…”_

She could see him clearly now, pale and helpless as he beseeched at her with those piercing green eyes. His bottom lip quivered, and she felt her insides shrivel up at the gut-wrenching visage.

_It’s all my fault, it’s all my fault, it’s all my…_

“John, I’m so sorry…” the bitter sob left the back of her throat and she crumbled to the ground, guilty and ashamed, her body keeling over in dread. “I’m so sorry.”

“Melo _dy_ …”

“I’m sorry.”

She closed her eyes, curled in a fetal position, rocking back and forth, unable to drown out the terror in his voice.

“I can’t do this.”

A foot jabbed at her back and she groaned in agony, the sting of her recent wounds flaring up again. Tears mingled with the blood on her skin as she felt the barrel of a gun press her temple, harder, harder.

“You can and you will. Or he will suffer the consequences.”

“AHHHHHHHHHHHuhhhAHHhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

Her eyes snapped open at the sound of John’s agonized shriek. A charge shot through the wires attached to him, sending electrical voltage through his body.

“ _Stop it!”_ Melody wailed despairingly, her voice raspy. _“I’ll tell him.”_

“Good. Now that we understand each other, let me give you another warning. What you just witnessed was setting one of an electric torture device of my own design. It can be operated remotely and should you make any attempt to escape or go back on your word, I will not hesitate to use the higher settings.” Kovarian glowered at Melody, wicked smirk in place. “As much as I’d love to stay and supervise, I’ve got the strangest feeling this exchange will be far more interesting to watch if I leave you two alone for a little while. You should be aware that I will be monitoring the entire conversation from outside surrounded by a group of heavily armed guards, who will fire at any target upon my command. I hope for both your sakes that you choose wisely, Melody.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...you may be really confused right now...but don't worry, it will make sense. Eventually. I don't know how long it will be before my next post, but rest assured I have not given up on this fic.
> 
> EDIT: I made a really embarrassing, stupid mistake when I first posted this chapter, implying that John can see again. I'm terribly sorry...that's been omitted. I honestly don't know what happened to my brain. Thank you for those who pointed that out. It was massively dumb of me to do that, I'm so sorry.


	17. Betrayal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is long overdue, I know. It's literally by the grace of God it's even coming up tonight. I've been recovering from unexpected sickness over the past few days and my plans of posting this chapter haven't exactly worked out. It picks up where it left off...and hopefully by now you've all gotten the memo about that really idiotic boo-boo I made in that last chapter before I edited it out. (Still really sorry about that--it was incredibly dumb of me). If you don't know what I'm talking about then don't worry about it:)

His heart beat loudly in his ears, the aftereffects of the electric voltage still tingling in his body. But John scarcely felt it, too focused on Melody’s ragged breaths.

The door slammed shut, and he could hear Melody choke back a sob, a gut-wrenching sound that ignited an uncanny mixture of fear and anger.

“Melody…” he whispered, his voice barely audible, obviously affected by Kovarian’s torture machine. “You need to breathe. Come on, deep breaths, you can do it, I know you can. Do it for me, eh?”

Somehow his remarks only sent her into further panic mode, which he really should’ve anticipated.

“I—I can’t.” she sobbed, breathing too fast and uneven.

“Me-lo-dy. _Please_.”

“John—I—I’m terrified.”

“I know. So am I. But I need you to do this for me, Melody. Just breathe.”

“I—I’ll try.” Melody struggled to get the words out, but soon her breaths steadied.

“That’s it, there you go. It’s okay. I’m here.” He intended to sound reassuring, but couldn’t speak without trembling.

“John…I…I have to tell you…”

“I know. But whatever it is, I can take it.”

“No…you don’t understand…when I…you won’t…” her voice cracked, and he could tell she was trying her hardest to regain composure.

“Melody…listen to me. You are my _best friend_ , the most wonderful, _amazing_ person I have ever known, do you really think that there is anything you have ever done or will do that I won’t forgive you for?” The tears returned to his eyes, shimmering but not falling as if to show his conviction. He heard her sharp gasp—even after all this time she still didn’t understand.

“Yes.” The note of hopeless rang through his ears. “Because…you were…you were right the other day. When you said something happened…”

* * *

 

“Melody—”

“I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you. I swear I did. But they—they threatened to kill my family, John. If I—if I…told you.” She sniffled a bit, sucking in a breath. “After—after that day at the park, I thought I’d told you everything. But that night—Schweigen Industries paid a visit to my home. They gave me all the instructions—where and when to deliver you…I didn’t want to…I didn’t understand…you had nothing to do with any of this. But then…I saw that they’d left…one of…one of my old files. A sort of blackmail tactic if you like. And I—I slowly understood.”

Melody watched the confusion flicker on his face, those grey eyes staring helplessly into the distance. It hurt to look at him, to see how fragile and frail he seemed in this state, stripped of his dignity, covered in a web of wires. She pictured him in another setting, clad in his typical tweed and bowtie, an impish smile in place as he gestured emphatically, hands waving in every direction. But the visage quickly faded, leaving the uncomfortable vision of John mercilessly strapped to a table.

He didn’t deserve this. He deserved to be the madcap professor, happily sharing his deepest passion with his students. Yet here he lay, all that beautiful, manic energy suppressed, replaced by fear and quiet compliance.

 _Because of_ me _._

She dug her teeth deep into her lip, closing her eyes, mustering all her strength because she couldn’t see him like this, couldn’t watch his reaction when he realized—

“ _You_ were my assignment. A…target to kill. In the file…there were…there was all sorts of information on you…your personality, strengths, weaknesses, pressure points. Notes I’d taken. I even—apparently we did an interview together…I was posing as a reporter called River Song. I couldn’t believe it—I don’t—I don’t have any memory of that encounter and you don’t either. But given the repeated memory wipes…that’s only to be expected. And the reason you don’t remember is because of…because of your… _accident_.” Her hand covered her mouth, and she felt a surge of pain coil in her stomach, as she drowned in the weight of the truth. “Only…only it wasn’t an accident, John. The explosion…the setup…it was all planned.”

Even with her eyes zipped shut, her head pounding, she didn’t miss John’s soft, yet unmistakable snivel.

“I…I’m…I’m the reason you’re blind.”

And then she broke, the reality of the truth having never hit so hard until that moment. Her head hit the cold tile floor and the throbbing started—first an agonizing jolt followed by a slow, sinking numbness reflecting all the bitter anxieties of her heart. She muttered a series of broken apologies, though they sounded closer to animalistic cries than anything human. As the darkness pooled in her mind, she could scarcely feel the hand gripping her shoulder and the sharp needle puncturing her skin as everything faded to nothingness.

* * *

 

His heart threated to lurch out of his ribcage; he didn’t think it had ever pounded more quickly, more loudly in those endlessly long, agonizingly painful seconds following Melody’s broken confession. Blood rushed to his head, drumming in his ears, taunting him.

_“I…I’m…I’m the reason you’re blind.”_

_“I’m the reason you’re blind. The reason you’re blind. The reason you’re…”_

The words echoed in his head on a repeating cycle, as if somehow hearing them over and over again would make this nightmare anymore real.

All the while, Melody’s high-pitched scream suddenly ushered in a bleak silence, as the door slammed from nearby.

He opened his mouth to protest but nothing came out, his throat dry and chest heavy. Sniffling, John realized that he’d been crying only after feeling the cold wetness dripping down his cheeks.

_No….No…No…_

_It’s not her fault, you know that…you can’t blame her…it’s not her fault…_

_‘I…I’m…I’m the reason you’re blind.’_

And yet it felt like a knife digging through his chest, penetrating his skin and delving deep into the inside of his body and straight to his heart where he would always hold her…

_It’s not her fault…it’s not her fault…_

His face contorted into something unrecognizable as he sobbed bitterly, utterly confused and shaken.

_I’m sorry, Melody._

He remembered the fear and terror and shame in her voice when she’d bravely given him a truth she’d just discovered—and he could only imagine how horrified she’d been herself to discover—

He wanted to tell himself it was a lie, to pretend it was only a nightmare, but somehow, Melody’s words rang too true. He’d never been able to explain it, but he’d always felt drawn to her, from the moment she saved him, like they’d met before…

_‘You were my assignment. A…target to kill.’_

_No, no, no._

_‘The explosion…the setup…it was all planned.’_

_But…I’m not_ dead _?_

If she’d gone to all that trouble, forced by Schweigen to end his life, then surely he would’ve died?

But…

_Oh, Melody._

Her name burned in his mind, and amidst the chaos crashing around him, he felt those gentle hands pulling him out, wrapping around him…

_‘It’s okay, it’s fine, I’ve got you, you’re going to be fine.’_

_Melody…please…_

“Melody? Melo- _dy_!” John managed to howl, voice a mixture of sadness, desperation and fear.

He wasn’t certain of many things in his life, but he did know that for whatever reason, despite this heartbreaking reality and the betrayal and confusion it brought, deep down, in that torn heart he held the same, unwavering truth: he loved Melody Williams.

* * *

 

“Where’s Captain Jack Harkness?” the impassioned woman yelled, her Scottish accent thick and threatening as it rippled through the university corridors.

Clara trotted close behind her, just as determined, hands on her hips.

They’d only left Gianelli’s about half an hour ago, after discovering Melody’s car had been missing within minutes of a visit from a “tall, handsome American.” It hadn’t taken long for Jack’s name to pop into Clara’s mind as a possibility, but she’d initially thought it ridiculous, impossible. But when she found herself muttering it again, Amelia’s eyes had gone suddenly wide.

_‘What did you say?’_

_‘Jack Harkness…’ Clara had mumbled once more, biting her lip._

_‘Of course.’ She’d gritted her teeth, clearly furious. ‘’Tall, handsome, American?’ Who else?’_

_‘You mean you know him?’_

_‘Well…it’s been quite a while. But yes, I remember that self-righteous prick. And let me tell you, if he seriously thinks he’s going to keep me away from my Melody, he can bet I’m going to wring his smug little neck.’_

Now, Clara didn’t doubt Amelia’s intention to do just that.

“Where is that smug little—”

“Woah, woah—flattery like that will get you nowhere.” The American cadence rippled from around the corner.

“Oi, Shut it, Jack! You know that wasn’t flattery!”

“Okay, okay, calm down, Miss Williams. Wouldn’t want to start a fight now would we? Why don’t you two lovely ladies step into my office right now…”

* * *

 

A few moments later, Amelia practically had Jack pinned to the wall, her hands pressing hard against his chest.

“Where. Is. She?” her demand evoked a look of cluelessness from Jack who simply held his arms up in protest.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Miss Williams.”

“Oh, yes you do, you scoundrel! I know you took her car. For your precious ‘safe keeping’ and whatnot. But let me tell you, my daughter’s whereabouts are not Torchwood’s private secret to hold. I deserve to know where my daughter is right now.”

_Torchwood? What’s that…what does she…_

A newly kindled panic burst into Jack’s eyes as he glanced helplessly from Amelia to Clara.

“Amelia…you made a _promise!_ ”

“Yes…I promised I’d never give away the name of your precious, oh, so secret organization, but guess what, Jack? That was ten years ago…and if you really think I’m going to keep my bloody mouth shut just because of your stupid security measures, you can put a cork in it because...in case you haven’t noticed, John Smith is also missing, and I know you know where he is, and if you think for one second that Clara doesn’t deserve to know what’s going on for the sake of his _safety,_ then you’d better—”

“Okay, okay—quiet down. For crying out loud, Amelia, if this room hadn’t been purposely sound-proofed, then you’d have put everyone in the whole university at risk—now please…will you let go of me? For Melody’s sake—”

“Don’t you dare speak her name like that—”

“Amelia—” Clara settled a hand on the older woman’s shoulder.

“Fine, but if you think for one second that I won’t go telling everybody—”

“I know, I know! I heard the first time…now if you’d listen to your lovely young friend here…”

“Shut up, Jack!” Clara’s gaze burned on him, and he stiffened.

“Miss Oswald, I’m surprised. Never thought you had in it you.”

“Yeah, well, in case you didn’t know, I’m tougher than I look, and I now know the name of your supposed secret organization which, I suppose, you wouldn’t want getting out to the wrong people, so, as Amelia has already said, I suggest you start talking!”

* * *

 

Once Amelia had released him, Jack sighed, rubbing his temples and turning to his cabinet to grab a bottle of wine.

“Fancy a drink, ladies?” the two death glares that followed gave him the only answer he needed. “Alright, just me then. Had to ask though, it would be awfully rude of me to—”

“Jack!” Amelia reprimanded.

“Right.” After pouring himself a modest amount, he tipped the glass to his mouth, swallowing quickly. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

“You—”

“Hey, before you accuse me of being an arrogant prick—let me explain a few things. First of all, I only say that out of regard for your own safety. Because you’re right Amelia. I do know what we’re dealing with, and it is a dangerous and ruthless business which I’m sure both of you are probably already well aware of. And unfortunately for you, the more you know, the greater the likelihood they’ll target you.”

“Who will?” Clara asked, her brows furrowed.

“Some very, very dangerous people, Miss Oswald. For your sake, I’ll keep them anonymous, unless of course Amelia has already—”

“No. No I haven’t. The safer she is, the better.”

“Good. Something we can agree on.”

“Hang on—”

“Clara, you have to trust me on this, okay?” something about the conviction in Amelia’s watery eyes stopped her from pressing the subject further.

“Okay, but—I want to know where my brother is—I want to be able to help—”

“You won’t be of any help to him if you’re dead.” Jack admitted grimly to Clara. “Yes. It’s that serious. And it’s not a game. Both of you need to remember that. I will tell you as much as I feel I can, but you have to understand that what I am about to say to you will potentially endanger both of you. If either of you should wish to leave now, you’re free to do so as long as you swear—”

“Oh, we’re not going anywhere.” Shaking her head, Clara spoke with steady confidence.

“Then you better be prepared to risk your lives to save your daughter and brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway, I hope I'll be able to update again before I return to school on the 26th (I would think so, but I never know for sure).
> 
> Happy New Year!


	18. Perserverance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...man, it's been over two months. If you're still reading this, thank you, honestly. I've been trying to get this chapter up for a while, but I've been feeling pretty frustrated and discouraged about where I am right now in this fic. I know what the end point is, but figuring out how to get there is really difficult. The good thing is, I have a better idea now, and I know exactly how to start the next chapter (but I don't know how long it will be).

When she awoke, Melody found herself fighting a throbbing headache, though it felt insubstantial compared to the cavity in her chest.

It took her another moment to realize why she couldn’t seem to move a muscle, her eyes drawing down to the straightjacket they’d put her in.

Biting her lip, she took a deep breath, battling the fight-or-flight instinct that arose as a result of the claustrophobia.

_Just don’t think about it…don’t think about it…don’t think about…_

She closed her eyes, but all she could see was the pale, limp body of her best friend, unmoving, lifeless.

_Stop. I can’t…I can’t think about that. He’s still alive…He’s still…_

Bleary memories of her most recent conversation with John Smith came to light, tearing away pieces of her soul with every passing second.

_“I…I’m…I’m the reason you’re blind.”_

It wasn’t exactly the words she’d remembered as much as his face after she’d said them—a sight of pure shock and confusion, forever imprinted in her mind.

_I’m sorry…_

Part of her wanted to cry again, to give into the tears and the misery, but a soft, quiet voice from somewhere deep inside her stirred.

_‘Be brave, Melody.’_

_‘Don’t give up. The fight isn’t over yet.’_

She didn’t know what to think—if she’d just imagined it, if it’d come from a place locked in her memory, or somewhere else altogether.

If she let her resolve crumble again, she’d only be letting Schweigen control her—giving them exactly what they wanted.

_I can’t give in. Can’t give them what they want. I’m done with that. No more._

A newfound determination filled her, pumping adrenaline through her veins and steeling her resolve for whatever would come next.

Thoughts of her parents and Anthony and John, their faces alight with laughter and smiles—glimmers of a brighter time, flashed through her mind, reminding her of why she had to fight, to keep going, to never give in.

Her recollection was interrupted by the abrupt slamming of a door from somewhere behind her, and the click-clack of heels that soon followed.

The familiar anger bubbled within her, but she buried it beneath the façade of the victim. Let Kovarian think she still had the upper hand—

“Well, well. That was quite the display, wasn’t it? Very entertaining to watch.” The viper slithered around to face Melody, mouth seething with venom.

Silent, Melody simply glared at her captor, her eyes narrowed.

“Oh, you’ve gone all quiet. Still upset about that whole debacle with your _boyfriend_? Well, he was bound to find out the truth sometime. But you should’ve seen his face—betrayed. Heartbroken. He’ll never view you the same way.”

Closing her eyes, Melody fought the emotions swirling inside. She didn’t need Kovarian to tell her what she’d witnessed herself. The lingering image that still hung in her mind—

“I know.” She whispered, keeping her voice level.

_But that doesn’t mean I can just abandon him. Not now. Especially not now._

“And I suppose you know you’ll have to confront him again.”

“You mean _kill_ him.”

“Well, yes. There’s always that. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We still have other plans for you, Melody.” Kovarian’s words grated at Melody’s nerves.

“So that’s why I’m in a straightjacket?” Melody chided, voice tinged with bitterness.

“A necessary precaution. You were hysterical back there. Enough so that we couldn’t possibly predict what you might have tried to do if given the chance. I wagered you might need a reminder of just who you’re dealing with before we proceed further with the plan.”

“Oh, believe me. I know exactly who I’m dealing with.” Clenching her jaw, Melody held Kovarian’s gaze, her eyes boring into those of her captor.

“I’d stop with that lip, if I were you. Might just get you killed.”

“You can stop with the threats, Kovarian. I know you won’t kill me. Because right now I’m your most valuable asset. You _need_ me.”

“Careful with that ego, Melody dear. You’re starting to remind me a bit too much of the young Mr. Smith. What’s with all the confidence all of a sudden? Convinced you’re going to beat me at this little game when you know I’ve already won? Give it up already, Melody. What good did fighting ever do you?”

_It brought me out of this hellhole. It brought me to my family, to John…_

_John…_

“I can see it in your eyes. You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”

“Shut up.”

“The guilt is eating up every last bit of your soul. And before you know it, there won’t be any Melody Williams left. Just a broken shell of the woman you pretended to be but never truly were.”

Melody’s eyes snapped shut as she shook her head.

“You see, that’s what I don’t understand. If I’m just a broken shell as you say, why am I of any use to you at all? I mean, come on, you could do better. You could just kill me. But you haven’t yet. You’re still insistent on using me to do your dirty work just like you always did. You talk of weakness, and yet I haven’t seen you lift a finger. If you despise John Smith so much, why don’t you just do the deed yourself?”

“Because you dared to defy us all those years ago. You were ordered to kill him, but you didn’t carry out the primary objective. You betrayed this organization, and those who betray the Silence always get what’s coming for them. This is your punishment, Melody Williams. This is what you deserve.”

“What about John Smith? What about what he deserves? What has he ever done to make you utterly despise him as you do? You call him the Doctor, but the way you say it—it’s like a curse. Like he’s some kind of monster. Why are you so afraid of him?”

“I’m not afraid of John Smith, nor have I ever been. This is about vengeance. And the Doctor has caused this organization turmoil ever since we began.”

“What are you talking about? John Smith wasn’t even alive back then.”

“Not your John Smith, maybe. But Dr. John Smith, his grandfather, was. The Doctor. The ‘good man.’ Did you know that during the entire Second World War he never killed a man? He prided himself on that. He considered himself above everyone else. He fancied himself a genius. My father knew of him, how could he not? He spared his life, after all. When he founded this organization, he sought to make a perfect world, one amongst which the Fuhrer would be proud. He would recruit the choicest of minds, ripe geniuses with bright, innovative ideas. And more importantly, he would eradicate those who threatened the new order. Who dared to prevent the greatness he sought to achieve. Knowing the Doctor’s strategic capabilities, my father offered him a chance to redeem himself. To use his strengths to help create this hopeful new world.”

“But he refused.”

“No, on the contrary. He agreed. Or so my father thought. Until one day he ran off with the preliminary designs for a new weapon he and my father designed, threatening to turn it over to the British government along with several other trade secrets bound to ruin my father. With this unforeseen betrayal, my father could no longer proceed according to plan, and was forced to wait until the time was right. Meanwhile, the Doctor stepped back into the shadows. Found himself a wife. Started a family. Covered his tracks discreetly. And passed his vendetta on to his son, the next Doctor, who would go on to create another organization bent on eradicating the Order of the Silence and its aims. A secret group known simply as Torchwood. From then on, this order was dedicated to terminating the Doctor. And we nearly did, if not for his son, who despite all odds, pulled his mother and father safely out of their totaled vehicle. But you already know that of course because you read his file. Even after we successfully terminated the Doctor, his son still remained. A lingering threat, holding the untapped potential to exceed even his grandfather. We could only let this go on for so long before identifying him as a code red target. And I suppose you know the rest.”

Kovarian flashed her one of those menacing smiles, the kind that chilled Melody to the bone and made her insides churn.

“No. That’s too easy. If you were simply frightened of his potential, you would have disposed of him long ago. There’s a reason you’re keeping him alive, and it’s not just because you hate me.”

“Oh, you think you’re so clever, don’t you? But you are right about one thing, there is a reason we need the Doctor alive. You see, we believe he has some valuable intel that will be of great use to us. Back when we assigned him to you, we had him thoroughly investigated. As far as we know, you were able to glean this information, but unfortunately, it was lost during the turmoil caused by Torchwood 10 years ago. But now, the opportunity has come, the Silence has been reborn. You, Melody Williams, will use John Smith to uncover the secrets regarding Torchwood’s infrastructure, the secrets which his father would surely have left him even without his knowledge, and when these facts have been brought to light, silence will fall on the Doctor and his affiliates.”

* * *

 

“We’ve been through all this once before, Jack. You know I will do anything to save my daughter.”

“I don’t doubt that, Mrs. Williams. I only fear the cost to you and your family should the organization become aware of your efforts. And I fear the same for you, Miss Oswald. I’ve seen them tear families apart before, and I don’t want it to happen again.”

“Then don’t, Jack. Just tell us where they are so we can help. Please.” Amelia pleaded, tears gleaming at the corners of her eyes.

“Alright. But whatever happens from here on out is on you.” The moment after Jack released his wine glass he pressed a tiny button on his wristwatch. “No external communications detected. And lucky for you, this room was installed with decillium-bonded steel in case of emergencies. We should be out of their radar. For now.”

Clara’s eyes widened as she watched Jack pull up what appeared to be a virtual screen from his watch.

“And here I thought you were just a cheeky professor.” Clara chided, brow arched.

“Everyone has their secrets, Miss Oswald. And I would have a better comeback to that, but in light of the circumstances, I’m fairly certain one of you would try to knock me out. Probably successfully.”

“You’ve got that right. And I definitely will do it if you don’t start giving me some answers.” Hands on her hips, Amelia Williams gave Jack Harkness her notorious death glare.

“Okay. So we’ve been vaguely aware of this organization’s potential reemergence for months, although we were unsure of exactly when they would make their move. John Smith has been under our protection for years, and it became apparent that he would become their primary target. At first, we suspected it might not be a coincidence that Melody Williams, a former member of this organization, had come to work so closely with John, but upon close examination over the past year, we realized that she was unaware of the nature of these threats.”

“Hang on—you thought my daughter was targeting John? You spied on her? She considered you a friend, Jack!”

“She does have a track record, as you know. We couldn’t take any chances.”

“Oh, believe me Jack, she is long past that, and regardless, what she did those years was not her fault. Don’t you ever put this on her. They brainwashed her. They blackmailed her. She was forced to do those things. It was never her choice. And if I know my daughter, she is going to be fighting her way out of wherever they’re holding her even if it means snubbing that bloody Kovarian and her associates till they’ve nearly thought they’ve won. And right then is when the tables will turn.”

“I admire your faith in your daughter, Mrs. Williams, but we must consider every possibility.”

“Wait—earlier, you said you were already protecting John long before this happened. What do you mean, why—why would he need protecting? How would you know?” Clara’s voice quivered a bit, but she managed to get the words out.

“When I became head of Torchwood, I swore on oath to a very old friend that I would protect John Smith. I’m afraid the rest of the information regarding this matter is classified, Miss Oswald.”

“Classified? I’m his bloody sister—if this is a matter of life and death, I need to—“

“On the contrary, Miss Oswald, further knowledge on this particular regard on either of your parts puts you both in a range of danger I am not willing to allow. The stakes are already high enough. When we get through this, I may be able to shed some light on the issue. But right now, we need to concentrate on getting Melody and John out of there—”

“And where is _there_ exactly?”

Sighing, Jack pointed to the blinking dot on the screen. “We’ve tracked John and Melody to a disused warehouse in the Greenwich district. But the whole facility is under 24-hour surveillance. If we were to attempt a rescue mission, the chances of fatalities are high. The members of this organization are ruthless, they will kill on the spot, and they would like nothing better than to penetrate Torchwood’s central intelligence. We have to go in when they are most vulnerable. This isn’t going to be easy. It never is. We’re going to have to come up with strategic plan within the next 48 hours if we want any chance of getting them out alive.”

“Well, better get started then.”

* * *

 

John’s senses slowly reawakened, and he shifted around a bit, feeling the cold metal around his hands, but no longer bounding his legs. His back hit a rough, bumpy wall, and he realized he must have been transferred to a new location, a cell perhaps, which might explain why the air felt so bitterly cold all of a sudden.

Shivering, John fumbled his knees up to his chest, grunting in pain at the fresh scars on his ankles. His heart pounded faster and faster as he considered the ramifications of his plight.

How long had he been here? Hours? Days? What if—what if they’d already—

His thoughts returned to his best friend, his beloved, and he felt a gaping emptiness in his chest, a rising fear. Was Melody all right? What if they had hurt her—or worse what if they’d—

No, they wouldn’t. Not yet.

They were still using her to get to him.

The very idea sent a sickening wave of nausea to his gut. He clenched his teeth, knowing that the Silence had forced her to do unspeakable things, forced her to target people, forced her to target…him.

And yet here he was, alive, breathing; he may have been blinded in that explosion, but he should’ve died if the Silence had had their way. Melody must have defied her orders—even back then when she didn’t know him, when he wasn’t worth saving, she’d been willing to defy these murderers and risk her life, and not for the last time.

But he knew deep down that she would blame herself, that she’d only just discovered the truth, that she would think he would despise her for causing his blindness, when in reality, his compassion and understanding of her had only grown stronger.

John curled his legs further into himself, but soon became startled by the abrupt jabbing against his knee.  

“What—”

And then he remembered--the object Melody had given him that night, before everything changed. The Screwdriver.

But why would he still have it? Surely they would’ve removed it from him while he was sedated? Or perhaps this was a test to see what he would do—

Oh, he’d show them what he’d do, he’d show them, he’d—

The sound of screeching metal startled out of his thoughts, and he snapped his head up, his ears alert and listening.

He could hear the rustle of bodies followed by a gut-wrenching silence, marked only by hushed breathing. But even amidst the stillness, it was unmistakable.

“Melody.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading:)
> 
> Have a wonderful weekend!


	19. Silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the longest I've taken to update. I really would have liked to have done it sooner, but I was having trouble figuring out what to write. I'm still not so sure about this chapter.

The moment the call came in, Rory knew something was wrong. Maybe it was the momentary pause when he answered, or the fact that no one ever called him at this particular time of day.

Regardless, he had a sinking feeling in his gut that he couldn’t shake.

“Amelia?”

His own question echoed in his ears, reverberating in time with his heartbeat.

“What happened?” he prodded gently, fear settling in with every passing second.

“You were right.” She sounded exhausted, like the day had already taken its toll on her. “Look, Rory, I’m sorry; I can’t tell you everything over the phone, so that’s all I can say for now. But we’re working on it.”

“We?”

“I’ll tell you later, okay? Right now I’m going to pick Anthony up from school. I’ll be home soon.”

Even without Amelia spelling it out, Rory could sense the implication in her words. Whatever he’d feared in regards to Melody’s whereabouts—his worries hadn’t been unfounded after all. He’d hoped that for once his intuition had been wrong, that he’d just fallen under the guise of over-protective, worried father, but unfortunately, he’d been right.

“Okay.” He heard himself mutter, although distressing thoughts consumed his mind. “Love you.”

“Love you too. Bye.”

* * *

 

“Melody…”

Her name left his tongue like a desperate plea waiting to be answered, but to no avail.

“I’m going to ask you some questions, John. And you are going to answer me with complete honesty.” He would have probably preferred silence to the cold, detached voice that he recognized almost too well.

Despite knowing the direness of the situation and Melody’s lack of choice in the matter, it didn’t make hearing those words any easier.

But he didn’t have much time to ponder that thought any further before two pairs of hands smothered his wrists, unlocking his handcuffs and dragging him out of the cell and several feet down some sort of corridor and into another room. His captors practically shoved him in a chair and proceeded to connect one of his arms to a series of wires. Sharp metal pressed into his thigh, reminding him of the screwdriver he had managed to keep hidden in his pocket.

Once they finished the task, the men released their grip, causing John to fall forward slightly and collide with the edge of a table.

Clenching his jaw and closing his eyes, he managed to stifle the pain, holding it in.

By then he’d deduced that they intended to give him a polygraph test. Why the Schweigen felt the need to ensure his truthfulness was beyond him.

“Leave us.” Melody commanded sharply. A loud commotion, followed by a slamming door, filled John’s ears, leaving an almost intolerable silence.

He half-expected Melody to suddenly drop the façade, but after hearing the rustle of papers, he knew she meant business.

“Right. I have your original file from ten years ago right here in the event that it may contain information that could be of use. As per the instructions of Madame Kovarian, I’m going to have to insist that we refrain from having any personal conversations not pertaining to this investigation. Should you make any attempts to escape or discuss our prior engagements, you will be dealt with at Kovarian’s disposal. I will be asking you a series of questions and recording your answers via the polygraph test. If any of your responses are found to be lies, the same punishment applies. Now please, let’s make this process go as smoothly as possible.”

For a second he felt as if he’d been stabbed in the heart by a stranger with his beloved’s voice. But even then, he could sense the niggling fear beneath her practiced speech. Maybe it was her slightly uneven breathing or the nearly unnoticeable tremor in her voice. Melody could be quite the expert at compartmentalizing her feelings, but John knew her well enough to sense her unease. She was playing a dangerous game trying to prove her faux loyalty to her captors, but because he trusted Melody with his life, he would go along with it.

For the first time since Melody entered his cell, John spoke.

“Alright. Ask your questions. I’ve got nothing to hide.” He didn’t miss her sharp intake of breath at that.

“Okay, let me make sure this is fastened properly. Just give me a second.” Gentle, familiar fingers brushed his, sending a surge of warmth through him. He resisted the urge to grasp her hand, instead reminding himself that his compliance meant a better outcome for her, at least in theory. “There we are. Now, try to relax. I’m going to ask you a series of brief questions to which you will respond truthfully.”

“Go ahead.”

“First question. What is your name?”

“John Robert Smith III.”

“Good, okay. Second question. When were you born?”

“23rd of November, 1982.”

“Where were you born?”

“Northampton.”

“What city do you live in currently?”

“London.”

“What was your mother’s maiden name?”

“Oswin.”

“What’s your sister’s name?”

“Clara Oswin Oswald.”

“Alright, so we know how the graph looks when you’re telling the truth.” She pressed a button on what sounded like a computer keyboard. “Now, just for reference, I want you to answer the following questions with lies. This is simply necessary to determine the future accuracy of your answers. You will not be penalized.”

“First one. What city do you live in currently?”

“New York.”

“What is your name?”

“The Doctor.”

“Where were you born?”

“Gallifrey.”

“Gallifrey?” she asked, incredulous.

“Just made it up. You asked me to lie didn’t you?”

“Yes. Quite. Anyway, now I can see the difference in results between your truthful and untruthful answers. We can proceed with the real questions. Once again, I urge you to answer truthfully, even if you don’t understand the relevance of the questions. Understood?”

“Understood.”

“When did your father die?”

The question felt like a slap in the face.

“6th of August, 1992.”

“But your file says you ran away after your father’s death at age 15. In 1992, you would have been 10 years old.”

“Yes. The file’s correct. He died when I was 10, but I didn’t run away until I was 15 after my sister had been born and my mum had remarried.”

“Why did you run away?”

“Because it was so hard. Living with my stepfather. He’s quite an irritable man. Scottish and grumpy. We never got along well. And just seeing him every day, where my dad should’ve been, I couldn’t bear it anymore. So I made a reckless decision as teenagers often do, and I ran away.”

“Did you and your father have a close relationship?”

“Yes. He was very dear to me.” John managed a wobbly smile, despite the memories reawakening in him. “The best man I’ve ever known.”

* * *

 

Watching the flicker of pain in John’s face when he spoke about his father, Melody sucked in a breath, maintaining her cool exterior while inside, her heart broke for him. She wished she didn’t have to bring up such terrible memories, but she knew her only chance of protecting him was to follow Kovarian’s orders. No matter how much it hurt.

“John, what was your father’s profession?”

“He was a Doctor.”

“Were you in any way aware of his role as head of the covert organization, Torchwood?”

“No.” His response came instantly, and as expected, the machine confirmed it as the truth.

“Did your father ever speak of his work to you in a way that would suggest he was keeping secrets?”

“No. I just knew he worked for the government and wasn’t allowed to talk much about his work.”

“Did you ever get the sense that your father’s job put you and your family in danger?”

“Not that I was aware of.”

“What about the incident when you were 8 years old?”

“The car accident?”

“Yes.”

“Well, it was awful. But of course, I thought it was just as you said--an _accident_. There was no reason to suspect any foul play. And I was just a kid anyway. I wouldn’t have known.”

“Okay. Around the time of that accident was there anything he said that stuck out to you?”

“I dunno, really. It was a long time ago. I just…I remember waking up. After…after the accident in hospital. It was all so confusing. My dad—he—he told me that I was safe. That I’d always be safe.” His bottom lip trembled a bit, but he shrugged his shoulders, keeping his composure.

“Are—are there any other memories of him that stand out to you?” Melody approached the question tentatively, hardly able to fight the guilt pooling inside her.

“He was a good father. I thought he was the coolest person in the world. He was so smart; he knew so much—but he never flaunted his intelligence. As far as I know, he used it to help people. He loved wearing bowties, hence why I wear them now, to remember him. Every night, before bed, he’d read me a bedtime story, or tell me one he’d made up himself. To be honest, I think he got a bit bored with the originals and tried to spice them up a bit. So you know, instead of the Emperor’s New Clothes, you got the Emperor Dalek’s New Clothes.”

“Dalek?”

“Just some evil alien creature he made up. Their weapons consisted of a plunger and a whisk. Pretty ridiculous, right? Made for good stories anyway, you know.”

“Yeah.” She nodded, not sure what to make of that. “Any other memories?”

“Oh, when he gave me my favorite book. It sparked my interest in history.”

Without asking for clarification, Melody knew he must have been referring to the book he’d given her for her birthday. Her heart sunk again.

_John—_

“Did he—uh—did he say anything sort of memorable when he gave it to you?”

“Other than ‘happy birthday?’ Not really.”

“So in summary—books, _stories_ were really important to your father, weren’t they?”

“I suppose so.”

“Do you—do you think it’s possible that they were more than just stories, John? That maybe—maybe your father was trying to tell you something indirectly? To—to protect you?”

“It never occurred to me, no.”

“No, of course not. Okay.”

Melody continued with relevant questions for the period of time Kovarian had suggested. But by the end of the session, she didn’t have a firm idea of what might be the key that Kovarian insisted John’s father had left him. She had information of course, but nothing definitive.

“Thank you for giving me truthful answers. I’ll give this some thought and see what I find. We’ll probably need to do another session just to be sure.” She scribbled again on her notepad, all the while her hand shook against the paper. “Um, I suppose you won’t be needing this right now.” Slowly disentangling his fingers from the wires, Melody found herself lingering a second longer than what was strictly necessary, offering a silent gesture of apology.

His expression changed, his mouth forming her name, “Melody,” a quiet whisper, a plea.

Everything that transpired in the last hour had only added salt to the wound, deepened her betrayal, thickened the invisible, yet tangible wall between them, but if it gave John even the slightest bit of a chance, it would be worth it.

Seeing him now, she could understand how the events of the past few days had taken toll on him. The lines on his face were somehow sharper, more noticeable. The light in his eyes had dimmed some, though not completely. Almost paradoxically, he looked like both a lost little boy and a tired old man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Certainly not his mere 32 years.

Guilt tore at her heart again, as she knew that she was responsible for these changes.

She didn’t realize he’d been holding her hand until she glanced down, noting their linked fingers. A surge of dread filled her—if Kovarian saw—

“I think you missed a wire.” John supplied, giving her a soft smile.

“Right. Yes. Of course. Sorry.” She mumbled, removing the last wire from his finger. Gathering up the supplies, including the laptop she’d been given to analyze his answers, Melody shifted in her seat, startled by the noise coming from behind her.

“We’ll take it from here, Ms. Williams.” The uniformed Silence operatives grunted, forcing the materials out of her hands before she could protest. “Arms on the table. Both of you.”

Metal handcuffs returned to her wrists moments later, and she watched helplessly as they did the same to John, only more forcibly. But soon enough, they covered her eyes with a blindfold, obscuring her vision altogether.

_John…_

“Ms. Williams, you’re going to have to come with me.” She didn’t recognize the gritty American voice or the calloused hands that tugged at her shoulders.

“But we were ordered—”

“New orders. From up top. Just came in. And if you have a problem with that, I will report you to Madame Kovarian immediately. Now take Mr. Smith back to his cell as previously instructed.”

“Yes, Colonel Delaware.”

* * *

 

Clara stumbled into her brother’s flat, painfully aware of his absence as she glanced around the room sprawled with teaching materials, braille books, half-eaten fish fingers and the like. Everything that screamed ‘John,’ and yet, a gaping emptiness remained.

A hurried pitter-patter bombarded Clara’s ears as Idris scurried over to her.

“Idris! Hey, Old Girl. Just who I was looking for.” After rubbing Idris’ ears, Clara then proceeded into the kitchen. “I bet you’re hungry, eh, Old Girl?”

Apparently disinterested, Idris whimpered softly, pawing at the door.

 “Idris…” Clara sighed, walking back over, running her hands down Idris’ back. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. He’ll be back soon. I promise.” Even then, the words sounded empty, hollow. “Please come and eat something.”

When Idris didn’t follow her to the kitchen, Clara leant against the counter, shoulders slumped. Bending down, she scooped Idris’ bowl in her hands, taking it to the doorway. “Come on, I know you’re hungry, Old Girl.”

Almost hesitantly, Idris sniffed the bowl, before taking several bites.

“Oh, Idris. He’s going to be fine. Just let Auntie Clara take care of you for a bit, okay? John will be home soon, don’t you worry.” Despite her reassurances, Clara battled a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her gaze flickered to the small communication device Jack had given her in case of emergencies, and she wondered why shouldn’t quite believe her own words.

Needing a distraction, Clara pulled her phone out of her pocket, quickly dialing the desired number and holding her ear to the small device.

“Hey, you. Yeah, I’m alright. Actually, Danny, I was wondering if you could help a friend of mine with something…”

* * *

 

 Rory sensed the stress oozing off his wife before she uttered a word.

“Amelia,” he pleaded, hand finding the small of her back. Rubbing smooth circles into the fabric of her shirt, he tried to soothe her. “Talk to me, please.”

“Daddy…” Anthony interrupted, nudging Rory’s side. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, everything’s going to be just fine. Why don’t you get started on your homework while your mum and I chat for a few minutes? Sound good, buddy?” his voice cracked a bit; he couldn’t hide the fear bubbling inside.

“Daddy, I miss Melody. Mummy said she’s with Mr. John, but I haven’t seen her since yesterday, and I’m scared. When is she coming home?”

Crouching down to Anthony’s level, Rory placed his hands on his shoulders before pulling him into a tight hug. “Soon. She’ll be home soon.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” He agreed, the word tasting bitter in his mouth. “Now please go start your homework.”

* * *

 

“Amelia…”

“I’m fine, Rory. Everything’s gonna be fine. Just like you said.” Given the tremor in her voice, Rory didn’t believe a word of it.

“Amelia…” He raised a brow, leaning closer to her.

“Look, I even bought this at the shop today. Thought you might like the check it out.” Rory heard a soft rustling noise as his wife removed something from her purse. “You just stick it in your ear, and I can play some music on my iPod from over here, and you’ll be able to hear it. Wirelessly. Here.”

“What? Am—” But she’d already stuck the device in his ear before he could object.

_Rory. Hey, it’s okay. Take a deep breath, that’s it. There’s a high probability that someone from Schweigen industries is listening to this conversation right now, which is why I couldn’t outright tell you what was going on. This device operates at a frequency only you can hear, so no one should be able to listen in. It’s one of Torchwood’s latest technological achievements—at least, that’s what Jack says. Yes, Jack Harkness, head of Torchwood, you remember him, don’t you? Well, Clara and I bumped into him today. Turns out he’s been keeping tabs on John, and consequently, Melody. He knows where they’re being held. It’s a disused warehouse of some sort, but the less you know, the better. We’ve devised a plan that should allow us to infiltrate the Silence HQ in less than 48 hours. But Rory, we can’t speak a word of this openly. If they know how much we know, Jack says they will come after us and our family and even Anthony. That’s why when Clara and I go back out tonight, you’re going to stay here and look after Anthony. Make sure no one tries to enter the house. Clara has a friend who works at her school who she thinks can come over and help. His name is Danny Pink. He has military training, so he’ll know what to do if something were to happen. Rory, we’re going to get her and John out of there. I promise you. And my two minutes on this recording thing-y are up. Sorry._

“So, what did you think of that song?” Amelia asked Rory, placing her hand on his arm.

“I’m not so sure about it.” Rory muttered, ears still ringing from his wife’s pre-recorded speech and its implications.

“Rory…”

“Are you _sure_?” His heart pounded so loudly he wondered if even all of Schweigen industries could hear it. His mind raced with thoughts of the potential outcomes, the dangers this plan entailed. He didn’t particularly want to think about those, nor was he keen on this plan, but it seemed like it might be the only viable option.

“I am.” She nodded, voice breaking suddenly. “I have to be.”

 Sensing Amelia’s distress, Rory took her in his arms.

 “Okay.” He threaded his fingers through her hair in long, slow strokes. She didn’t speak for a long time, but she didn’t need to. Over the years of their marriage, they’d developed a sort of silent language. Right now, Amelia just needed him to hold her.

Rory whispered softly, reassuringly. “Hey, it’s okay. You’ll find a way. You always do. And I’ll be with you 100%. Whatever I can do to help. It’s called marriage.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so I'm trying to move the plot along some. Hopefully even more in the next chapter. I have no idea when it will be up, but I hope I can get it up sooner than I did this one. Truly, if you're still interested in this story, thank you. Your feedback helps keep me motivated.


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